Resonance of Faith
by Dark Interval
Summary: AU. Sequel to "The Stars Told Me So". The truth is out, but a new threat looms large over Elicoor II. All three nations must set aside centuries of strife and come together in a final fight for peace and sovereignty. But Fayt's powers aren't the only things complicating the situation, and Roger is about to uncover a secret that would change his life forever. FaytxRoger/AlbelxRoger.
1. Prologue

**Author's note:**

After years of hiatus, I'm finally back with part two of "The Stars Told Me So" series! Sorry, I've been uninspired for the longest time and it didn't help that my story wasn't receiving much response. Still, I decided to press on because I friggin' love SO3 and my three beloved Elicoorians.

If you're a new reader, I strongly insist you read the first part of this series, "The Stars Told Me So" first, otherwise a huge bulk of the references to characters, relationships, scenes and events I make in this fanfic, will fly over your head. To put it bluntly, you wouldn't know what's going on. If you're an old reader, best to get a refresher!

We continue from where we left off with Fayt after the manifestation of his powers. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Resonance of Faith**

 **by Dark Interval**

 **Chapter 1: Prologue**

* * *

The small battleship gave a violent jerk, its occupants bracing themselves from the sudden impact; but recovered quickly, fingers flying across the controls in a desperate attempt to stabilize the faithful spacecraft against enemy fire. The navigation's readings were spinning out of control. The alarm blared and bathed the main deck in bright red. Status reports flew faster than the human ear could catch.

One of their engines was down.

"We lost engine five!"

The battleship shuddered as another blast hit.

"We're losing engine 2! It's core's overheating! I repeat: we're losing – "

Emerald eyes peeled away from a young Earthling's profile, fists clenched. Jaw set tight, the young woman surveyed the situation on deck, her mind processing, analyzing and moving faster than any captain's who had been in her position until this day. The locater last indicated that they were approximately an hour away from a conceivable transport site. The woman worried her lower lip as she rapped her fingers on the controls. It was risky; this ship was merely a small carrier primarily for transport and interceptions, and wouldn't stand 5 minutes under continuous fire. But she wondered if they could somehow buy themselves more time, at least until they got within range of their target. _Just a little longer._

"Marietta, damage report."

Said woman paused and glanced briefly over her shoulder. She was slightly older than the speaker, lithe and diminutive with short blonde hair set around a pretty face; also the main pilot.

"Not the best, Captain," Marietta replied gravely. "We managed to damage the Vendeeni's main engine, but they got us as well. It's not substantial, but given that this is a small carrier with limited military capacity, one less engine would leave us heavily compromised."

The young captain hummed, a frown maring her elegant features. Now that wasn't good.

"What of the navigation system?"

"Negative." Marietta reached overhead to pull down a screen showcasing the ship's inner mainframe. Certain areas were bleeding into the red. "The impact from the blast has rattled our systems. There's some interference with our ability to properly steer and remain on the trajected course."

The captain's fist came down hard on the control panel. "Dammit!" she paused to take stock and evaluate her next course of action.

This wasn't supposed to happen. _None_ of this was supposed to happen. It was a simple mission: get the boy, get out, steal the doctor and get some answers. The whole thought of having to explain everything to a bunch of backward political parties on an underdeveloped planet was already giving her a headache. How did an entire _planet_ get dragged into this mess? This placed a huge damper on their schedule, if not made it worse.

"Permission to speak, Captain," chimed a new voice, upbeat and ever eager. She resisted a small smirk that threatened to creep across her lips. Trust Quark's weapons specialist to remain so optimistic at a time like this.

"Proceed, Lieber."

But the dusty blonde had already started speaking before she had finished.

"Proposal to go into stealth mode and find a safe and secluded location to land and repair the engines," said Lieber. "It'll be dangerous to carry on like this – and what if the Vendeeni decide to spring another attack? No doubt they'll use the time to repair their ship… We wouldn't be able to hold them off the next time!"

She stroked her chin in silent deliberation. The guy had a valid point.

"What's the estimated time for repairs?"

"Uh… 107 hours-"

"Negative." She rose to her feet and strapped a phase gun to her holster, mind made up. "I'll lose daylight." She turned to address her pilot, "Marietta, redirect all power to the transporter and teleport me to the nearest location. Use the reserve energy to escape."

Lieber gaped. "B-But, Captain! Your escort–"

"Isn't necessary," she finished curtly, forcefully putting an end to all discussion. "Besides, I'll need you to protect Marietta as she performs the repairs." She shot him a meaningful stare. "Lieber, you're my only liaison with the _Diplo_. I need you here."

The man's shoulders slumped in defeat, but nevertheless saluted his commander. Worry shone clear in his eyes. "Aye-aye, Captain…"

With a curt nod, she returned her gaze to Marietta, who too regarded her with concern. But she chose to ignore it in favor of her conviction.

"How close can you get me to the target?" she asked.

"One moment." Marietta typed a few commands into the system and a detailed chart of the planet and it's continents appeared midair. "Just beyond the city gates," the blonde replied, zooming in and bringing up a map of Gaitt, tapping on a specific marker. "They call it… _Aquois._ "

"And what sort of government am I to expect?"

"A holy city ruled by a queen and operates on the basis of theocracy."

Quark's leader could have snorted. _Great, royalty._ She could just imagine the amount of convincing she had to do for a bunch of palace guards to let her in. Somehow, she doubted it would be as easy as, "You know those two men who landed in a spaceship and one of them single-handedly destroyed a giant Vendeeni warship with his powers? Yeah, turns out I'm with them. May I come in?" Thankfully, she had done enough research on Elicoor II on her way here to get a good sense of their culture, sense and political as well as historical disposition. Suffice to say, it was going to be one hell of a bumpy ride.

"Fine. Prepare for transport."

Marietta nodded. "Roger that, ma'am."

"Wait!"

She paused three steps from the chamber's doors to regard Lieber with an expectant tilt of her head. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

The man gave her shoulder an assuring squeeze, his gaze warm and shining. "Good luck… Maria."

Surprise flashed through her eyes, before she collected herself and shot him a grateful smile in return.

"Thank you, Lieber."

As she stepped through the doors and into the teleporter, Maria allowed her gaze to linger on a certain blue haired boy's photo projected on the ship's system a moment longer, before she felt the familiar tickling sensation envelop her body as a brilliant blue-white light consumed her. After years of desperately searching for answers, combing the galaxies for some semblance of promise or truth, they were finally getting somewhere. She only hoped that things could be that simple.

 _I've finally found you, Fayt Leingod._

 _To be continued..._

* * *

 **Author's note:**

Maria's here! I know, it's short. But this is only the prologue and I'm already halfway through the next chapter. As always, feel free to leave a review if you like my story. I'm always eager to know what you guys think :)


	2. A Time For Repose

**Author's note:**

Alright, here's that chapter I promised! Can't believe I churned this baby out in less than a week, but it's here and I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out. A few events occur in this chapter and we get a glimpse of what's happening from all angles. So, strap yourselves in and enjoy!

* * *

 **Resonance of Faith**

 **by Dark Interval**

 **Chapter 2: A Time For Repose**

* * *

"Urgh…"

Fayt groaned as he slowly felt himself come to. Tentatively, he opened his eyes, only to wince and snap them shut when the room started spinning. That was when he realised two things: he had no idea where he was, and he had no bloody idea how he even got here. _Well, apparently I'm in a bed._ And if the telltale quality of the cotton sheets and down-stuffed pillows indicated anything, he was probably somewhere safe. However, after being stuck on this planet for a while and having grown accustomed to its dramatic, fast-paced events, inactivity worried him, and being alone too long left one feeling horribly paranoid.

 _First thing's first..._

Fayt braced himself, took a deep breath and slowly sat up... only to immediately regret yet another poor decision he made in this particular period of his life. The room swam. It took a whole lot of effort to resist throwing up. His head was pounding like crazy, like someone was dousing it with alcohol and beating his brain silly with a jackhammer at the same time.

 _What the hell happened? I was fighting a war… Vox… The Republic… then lasers and… Roger!_

Fayt hissed as both hands flew to his head in a bid to stifle the pain. Oh God… why did his head hurt so much? And why couldn't he remember anything?

"Don't kill yourself, kid. Y'know, I was afraid you'd never wake up again."

Fayt cracked an eye open in a half-hearted attempt to glare at the speaker and unwanted guest. He recognized that gruff voice anywhere; had not forgotten the shit its owner put him through on the battlefield, as well as the lingering sense of betrayal he felt in his chest when things turned to shit after Cliff finally spilled the beans when the Vendeeni attacked. Honestly, he didn't trust the Klausian – didn't _want_ to; but between an anti-Federation agent and bloodthirsty Vendeeni soldiers hell bent on his case, he figured he didn't really have much of a choice.

Cliff continued to stare at him as he pretended the other did not exist. The first few seconds proved effective enough, but Fayt wasn't 5 years old anymore and ignoring someone wasn't going to make them go away.

When it became apparent that conversation could no longer be avoided, Fayt mentally counted to 10, swallowed thickly and broke the silence, "Where am I?"

Cliff took a second or two to gather his thoughts. "Castle Aquaria," he said without giving too much away. "We're back."

"And Airyglyph and the Sanmite Republic…?"

"They're here too," Cliff's eyes darted to the side, regretful. "We managed to save as many lives as we could during the evacuation through Peterny. The nations are mourning. Now's not the time for war."

Fayt bit his lip as he struggled to process their newfound situation. He had known what he was getting himself into when he agreed to participate in the war alongside Aquaria, was prepared for the sacrifices and repercussions when he went back on his word if only to keep a certain humanoid boy safe. His heart leaped to his throat at the mere thought of his little Menodix.

 _Roger…_

Even now, he couldn't stop thinking about the terrifying way Roger had looked at him when they confronted his father: biting cold and distant like the howling winds of the frigid Airyglyph mountains. Such an expression did not suit him; Roger had treated him as if they had never even met – and somehow, Fayt found that thought more horrifying than being stuck on this godforsaken planet. But the damage was done; mistakes were made; and not even weeks of sleep could erase the pain and regret Fayt felt in his heart. And that, coupled with the dozens of humanoids he slaughtered in cold blood during the heat of the moment; the Menodix would surely never forgive him. Still, he had to know. His tortured heart would never know rest if he didn't.

"Is… is Roger all right?" he whispered, voice betraying the urgency he felt tearing away at his chest. If Cliff noticed anything, he never said a thing.

"Yeah. It was just a hard knock to the head. Nothing some ice and a couple of bandages couldn't fix," Cliff answered with a rueful chuckle. "The brat's lucky he's got a hard head to match that stubborn personality."

That was when Fayt noticed a slight redness on his bodyguard's left cheek that looked suspiciously like a handprint. It was small and slender and appeared to have faded a little over some time. Considering the circumstances and the blonde's history with a certain Aquarian, Fayt had his suspicions; and seeing that Nel was nowhere in sight, he probably had a good idea what happened while he was asleep. Poor Cliff. If things had been different, he would have laughed at the affinity of their romantic predicament.

"... That's a relief," Fayt bit out for a lack of better words, clenching and unclenching the sheets between his fingers.

Perhaps it was time to change the subject. Although he wanted so badly to seek out the humanoid and ensure he was well and truly alive with his own two eyes; touch and hold Roger close with his own two hands; feel his soft breaths against his lips; he didn't know if it was a good idea to confront the boy now, much less if Roger still considered them to be lovers after everything that had transpired in the last few hours (assuming it was still the same day). Fayt didn't want to think about that.

"And the Vendeeni?" he enquired.

"Don't worry about them now," interrupted a new voice, her forwardness making Fayt jump from where he sat.

Mirage was tucked inconspicuously at the corner of the guest room, posture as poised and still as a statue, one would have failed to notice her if she never breathed a word. The blonde beauty pushed herself off the wall she had been leaning on and approached Fayt with a concerned yet kind smile.

"How are you feeling, Fayt? Can you stand?"

To test her question, Fayt made an attempt to swing his legs over the edge and push himself up, only to moan and fall back onto the mattress when his vision tipped and started to go all woozy. It also didn't help that his body felt like it had been put through a blender and spat back out.

"Nrgh! I'm aching all over…" he winced and grabbed his head. "And why does my head hurt so much?" It wasn't like he hadn't engaged in serious combat before; after all, he had enough experience with the battle simulators on Earth and his experience _here_ to amount to something.

Cliff and Mirage shared a troubled look. "Well–"

"You really don't remember, do you, Fayt Leingod?"

Now Fayt really _did_ jump to his feet from that sudden, unexpected voice, never mind that he would come to regret his actions later. _Who_ the hell was that?! And exactly how many people were here with him in this room? Honestly, he didn't think he could handle any more surprises.

A proud and elegant young woman about a head shorter than him stepped forward from the shadows and stopped at the foot of the bed just two steps from where Fayt stood. Her features were soft and lovely; big, bright emerald eyes gazed at him in both curiosity and awe; her pink, glossy lips quirked up every so subtly in a small smirk. She wore what appeared to be dark military garbs that clung tight and hugged her body in all the right places; the skirt of her mini-dress ended precariously above mid-thigh showcasing a pair of long, slender stocking-clad legs; an armor padded cropped jacket and long outer skirt completed the look. All in all, her garments appeared better suited for the more developed quadrants of the galaxy, like Earth or Expel, clearly indicating that she wasn't from around here. There was movement, and Fayt's gaze dropped instantly when the mysterious female casually placed a hand on her hip, and that was when he noticed the intimidating phase gun strapped to a holster on her right. Now, Fayt didn't know much about guns – he was more of a sword enthusiast himself – but he had an inkling that hers wasn't standard Federation-approved weaponry.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" He demanded, voice pitching from the shock and panic. To his annoyance, the strange girl simply sniffed and flipped her long, blue hair in a gesture that could only be described as haughty.

"I did my research," was her flippant response, and as if to challenge him further, began listing out his traits and preferences in uncanny detail:

"Fayt Leingod: only son of the universal authority on symbological genetics, Professor Robert Leingod. Born on Earth, currently 19 years of age. Favorite sport: basketball; position: point guard. Hobbies include: competitive gaming, particularly battle simulation. College major: symbological engineering. Your favorite food is–"

" _Woah,_ hang on just a second!" Fayt raised his hands to stop her in case she accidentally divulged anything too private. He _did not_ appreciate random people digging through his personal life, thank you very much. Besides, it was intrusive as hell and downright creepy.

"How– no, _why_ do you know so much about me?"

"I'm on a mission to locate your father, as well as ensure your safety. It's my job to know these things," she replied simply as if commenting about the weather. Then, she extended her hand in formal greeting, "Where are my manners? I'm Maria Traydor, leader of Quark. But please, call me Maria."

 _What?!_ Fayt would have slapped her hand away if he hadn't already accepted it. This beautiful girl was the leader of one of the galaxy's largest anti-Federation organizations? But she looked so young – maybe around his age! How did someone like that become commander of such an extensive operation?

"Ah, uh, umm…" God, what should he say? "N-Nice to meet you. Could you please answer my questions now?"

Fortunately, Maria did not seem to take offense to his rudeness.

"I suppose I should," she said with a sigh as she crossed her arms. "Alright, what would you like to know?"

 _Well, that was surprisingly easy._

"Ok… Why did the Vendeeni capture my dad? Why are they after me? What is it about me that they're so interested in? What is it about me that _you're_ so interested in?"

"Relax," Maria interrupted, maintaining a face of calm despite the urgency of their situation. "There's a lot to explain, but first– she turned to her subordinates – Fayt's powers manifested, didn't they? I saw it from my ship."

Fayt frowned and regarded them curiously. _Powers? Manifested?_ What on earth was she talking about? And why couldn't he remember anything past the rage and devastation and cradling Roger's limp body in his arms?

"They did, just once," Cliff confirmed solemnly. "He was stronger than expected, but that could've been supplemented by his emotions at that time. Particularly, his destructive capabilities are far beyond yours."

Maria frowned. "His emotions?"

"He almost lost someone he deeply cared about from the Vendeeni's attack," supplied Mirage. "That's when they manifested and you know the rest."

"I see…" she trailed off thoughtfully, rubbing her chin. _Interesting._ "And his memory?"

Cliff shook his head. "Nah. It's as good as amnesia."

It was then Fayt decided that enough was enough. He did not appreciate being talked about so callously like he wasn't even there. The way the three Quark agents so openly discussed about him made him feel like a lab rat being examined inside a cage. Did they forget he was still here, or was this a very Klausian thing to do? Come to think of it, was this Maria person even from Klaus? She most certainly didn't look the part; then again, Mirage wasn't exactly the sweetest flower of the bunch herself. He just assumed Quark was made up of majority Klausians. Heck, he knew less than a fraction of her than she did him – and they had just met! Now they were going on about some _power_ he supposedly possessed? This felt so surreal...

"Would someone _please_ tell me what the hell's going on?" he asked on the verge of snapping. Why was Quark's leader being so difficult? And why was she looking at him like that? Almost like she felt sorry for him.

"... I'm sorry, could you spare me a moment, Fayt?" Maria looked him in the eye and Fayt could immediately sense her sadness and concern. "First, I have some new information. It's about your father, and… it's not exactly good news."

She closed her eyes momentarily and desperately raked her mind for the nicest way to break the truth to the handsome, young Earthling.

"Well, you know that your father was captured by the Vendeeni, right?"

"Yes…" said Fayt warily.

"And you really don't know why, do you?"

This was getting incredibly frustrating. "So tell me why then!"

Maria turned to face the hotheaded teen."Fine," she conceded. "To put it bluntly, your father took it upon himself to carry out forbidden research." At Fayt's dubious stare, she pressed on. "You heard me. For years he's researched and designed a genetically modified, living weapon, forbidden by the laws of the Pangalactic Federation."

Fayt had to resist a snort. " _My father?_ Is this the same guy we're talking about?"

At that, Maria went right up to his face and Fayt blushed from the sudden proximity. Talk about pushy. Maria Traydor was the most confrontational woman, who did not resort to physical violence, he had ever met. Somehow, that lent her a certain degree of attractiveness.

"I don't joke, Fayt," she warned. "Of course he didn't talk about it. Other than those involved, only the top levels of the Federation government knew anything."

"Oh yeah? Then how come _you_ know about it?" he replied in challenge. However, he wasn't expecting Maria's subsequent reaction: a flash of pain darted across the beautiful girl's eyes, before she quickly turned to look away, seemingly shrinking into herself.

"I was one of his… guinea pigs," she said softly; regretful, bitter and ashamed, before anger flashed across her eyes. "And I'll _never_ forgive them."

This was too much to handle. The stuff Maria talked about sounded like the kind of things one only heard in games or stories. Where was the basis of her argument? None of this made any sense!

" _My dad?_ I can't believe this! Living weapons? And you… a guinea pig? You just look like an ordinary girl!" he griped.

Maria turned around sharply to face him, ostensibly impatient and offended by his description. "And how am I supposed to look like? A talking laser canon with eight legs?" she bit out sarcastically. But when she realized they weren't going anywhere with this pointless discussion, she figured some things were better off showing than telling.

"Here, watch this," she beckoned Fayt towards three small vases perched innocently on a nearby shelf.

Stepping forward with a hand outstretched, she tapped the middle vase with a finger and Fayt watched in amazement as a strange brilliantly blue string of symbols appeared. They seemed to circle the three vases in a loop, before they disintegrated into thin air, leaving but the middle vase glowing a mysterious white. Then, faster than the eye could blink, Maria drew forth her weapon and pulled the trigger. The shot fired and hit the middle vase dead center, but the bullet got deflected and ricocheted to destroy the two other vases by its side. Fayt gaped at the demonstration, completely baffled.

 _What in the world… how did that happen?!_

Maria tucked her gun away and lowered her gaze sadly. "This is the power I received from the symbological genetic modifications Professor Leingod and his team performed on me. I possess the ability to manipulate the structure of matter, otherwise known as 'Alteration'." She turned to offer Fayt a despondent smirk, the kind that tried to hide all the pain. "So, still think I'm an ordinary girl?"

There was nothing left to do but reluctantly accept the truth, no matter how cruel or far-fetched it may be.

"But… why would my father do such a thing?" Fayt whispered, doubtful and afraid.

"And not just to me," Maria continued as she shot him a meaningful stare. "I wasn't the only one they modified. Another came before me. I was the second subject."

The way she was looking at him, Fayt didn't like where this was going.

"What are you saying?" he breathed, though he already knew the answer deep down in his heart.

Maria's expression was torn, sympathetic and sad. The emotional turmoil she was seeing in the boy's eyes – it reminded her so much of her own reflection when she herself had found out about the truth.

"The first subject… was you, Fayt."

But instead of defeat, denial took root and anger consumed him.

"My father would never do something like that to me!" he snapped.

"I can understand if you don't believe me; after all, your power hasn't fully awakened yet," Maria rushed to defend herself. "But if I'm not telling the truth, explain this for me: who destroyed that Vendeeni battleship in the sky? Why are they so relentless in going after you that they would capture your father _and_ bring harm upon an innocent planet and its people just to get to you? Even hurting the ones you hold dear."

The more Maria talked, the increasingly conflicted Fayt felt. The horrid scene at Aire Hills, all that carnage from a single shot of those Vendeeni laser beams, flashed through his mind. The people fleeing for Peterny like a pack of wild animals trying to escape an apocalypse. The way Roger's lifeless body felt in his arms, and the fear and despair he felt in his heart right down to his soul. They all centered around him. It was too uncanny to be a coincidence.

"I know you don't want to admit it, but there's only one truth and we can uncover it together," Maria continued, seeking his eyes, beseeching. "I'm going to steal the Professor back from the Vendeeni and ask him why he did what he did. But I need _your_ help, Fayt. I… I can't do it alone."

Fayt's expression was pained; as much as he wanted to accept Maria's words – they were the only logical explanation for everything that's happened from the headaches, fainting and memory gaps – but he couldn't. Him? A _weapon_? That was just crazy. He was a fully conscious, living human being. He had _memories_ , a _life_. How could he be anything else?

"Hey."

Fayt started at Cliff's voice. The blonde had been awfully quiet until this point.

"We're not expecting you to accept this right off the bat, but you want to rescue your old man, right?"

"Of course I do, but…"

"Then let's go rescue him like we planned," Cliff continued smoothly and approached the teen to place a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Crazy plot twist aside, our goals are the same. And if you still have any doubts by then, you can ask your dad yourself! Sound good?"

Cliff's grin was surprisingly infectious and his approach patient and understanding, especially when he seemed to be the only one in the room who understood Fayt's feelings. Perhaps it had something to do with all the hardships they faced together over the course of their journey, or the weird, crazy friendship they shared. Whatever it was, Cliff was the unexpected yet greatly appreciated voice of reason that Fayt needed at a time like this. And so, he took a deep breath and nodded his head in consent.

"Alright. Let's do this."

Mirage smiled and nudged him in a supportive gesture. "'Atta boy."

"Right," Cliff punched his fist into an open palm, addressing his boss directly. "How're we gonna do this? With your ship down and those Vendeeni hanging around the stratosphere, how're we going into orbit?"

"Hmm… Unfortunately, the _Diplo_ won't be arriving anytime soon, and I'd rather not spark an aggressive confrontation between our flagships," Maria paced the room as she pondered the question. "We'll just have to make do with my ship post-repair, but… entering orbit, transporting and warping out will take a total of five minutes."

Fayt's eyes narrowed at her calculations. "I seriously doubt the Vendeeni would let us slip by without a fight," he commented. "A small ship wouldn't stand a chance."

"Exactly," Mirage quipped with a helpless shake of her head. "Even our flagship, the _Diplo_ , will have trouble withstanding five minutes of concentrated fire from the Vendeeni."

"Then I have a proposal," said Maria, whirling around to face the three members of her party; but the way she said it clearly indicated that it was more of an order than a suggestion. "The ideal solution would be to create some diversion from the ground as well. But – and at this she pursed her lips – with the technology on this planet, that would prove difficult. Any ideas? What's the strongest and most effective weapon on this planet?"

Cliff, Fayt and Mirage shared a meaningful look. They could only think of one thing that fit the bill.

"Well, it won't be effective against the Vendeeni's shields…" said Mirage.

"But it still could buy us some time…" added Cliff.

"They call it the _Thunder Arrow_ ," Fayt explained, the name itself bringing back memories both fulfilling and unpleasant. "It's a weapon that's able to fire concentrated runology or energy at a target at considerable range, but… I don't think it's long enough to reach the Vendeeni's ship." _Plus, it belongs to Aquaria and I don't think the queen's going to let us use it as we please,_ he added mentally as an afterthought.

Maria hummed and acknowledged his concerns. "Hmm… well, we could–"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and a guard entered the room. Though the man's expression remained impassive, his body language spoke of his inherent apprehension as he bowed in greeting. "Sirs, ladies, forgive my intrusion, but the conference room is ready."

Maria gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. "Thank you."

"Conference room?" Fayt questioned with a curious raise of his brow as he studied Quark's leader.

The latter simply turned to address Fayt as if it wasn't at all out of place that she already seemed to have made herself comfortable in this foreign kingdom, on this foreign planet. Absently, he couldn't help but admire her adaptability and the natural authority she commanded.

"I spoke to the queen while you were unconscious," Maria explained, recounting their meeting on the palace's balcony where she had been transported. Surprisingly, despite the strange situation the kingdoms of this world found themselves in (plus the fact that a girl had suddenly appeared on palace grounds out of thin air), the royal sovereign took it rather well and had shown tremendous understanding.

"She wanted an explanation that would make sense to her ears. And not just Aquaria: the leaders of the two other regions involved in the conflict, Sanmite and Airyglyph I believe, are pressuring for an explanation as well. I told her it would be best to catch up with you first; have everyone on the same page, before a proper audience."

"And how did that go?" Fayt asked.

"She took it well, though I can't say the same about that friend of yours with the red hair," Maria replied in what could only be described as mild amusement and sympathy as her gaze darted to a sorry-looking Cliff. "I believe Cliff has finally found someone who can hit him harder than he can throw."

"Bah! Get off my case…"

Mirage however, didn't appear to share her leader's amusement, but took pity on her partner and changed the subject. "At least now that this planet's involved in this mess, we don't have to hide anything anymore," she said.

 _But at what cost?_ Fayt could immediately picture the sheer drama and catastrophethat would ensue when the moment arrived. Oh boy, things didn't look too bright.

"That would be all," said Maria to the guard, who saluted and took his leave. The man didn't get very far, however, as Fayt dashed forward to grab his attention.

"E-Excuse me, wait! Ah…" His heart pounded a tattoo against his chest. "Is my friend, Roger, here? Do you know where he is? I…" He gulped nervously, blushing, "I'd like to see him."

Meanwhile, Maria watched Fayt's flustered expression with narrowed eyes. _Roger?_ Who was that? Was this the person who triggered Fayt's destructive capabilities? _Someone he deeply cares about…_ What made this boy so special?

"My sincerest apologies, sir. The Prime Minister's son is mourning," the guard replied, expression stoic. "He requests not to be disturbed, especially from you three."

Cliff scoffed, "Now that's just rude."

Sadness and disappointment turned Fayt's handsome features, his previously hopeful smile disappearing from the implications. He wasn't a fool; he had seen Ameena die from the Vendeeni's attack; and no doubt the little Menodix would want to spend all the time he and her spirit had left on this plane together, before moving on. However, Fayt doubted Roger would ever forget about Ameena – it was a wound carved too far deep and would stretch on for far too long. It couldn't be clearer to Fayt that the boy blamed him for her death, for the slaughter of his people, for everything.

"... Alright, I understand."

And it hurt like a stab to his heart.

* * *

The air was cold and still, empty from the silence and haunting like a grave. There was no choir today, or for the next seven days in light of a nation's mourning – or rather, the collective tears of three kingdoms: once powerful brothers in arms, now ripped apart from the devastation of war. These were sad times for the people of Gaitt.

The castle chapel seemed darker this day; long, hanging tapestries depicting the crests of the three nations and their respective lore, covered the towering stain glass windows and blocked out the light from the harsh, midday sun. Each tapestry had a story to tell, each a puzzle piece of a unified history that no longer held any ground once the fighting started. Now, they hung alongside each other, surrounded the chamber and bathed it in shadows, but its silken threads no longer bore any meaning – dusty, hollow and a cruel mockery. How ironic that it took an entire war and the unexpected interference of a third party, to bring them all together again. This was something he had always wanted … but not like this.

 _Never like this._

Roger sat at the front row of the chapel pews, listless brown eyes staring blankly at the two bodies placed side by side upon the pedestal; beautifully and carefully embalmed, and surrounded and showered by hundreds of soft pink Palmira blossoms all in full bloom. Candles burned brightly, the scene going blissfully undisturbed. The thin veil covering one of the bodies was pulled back to reveal the lovely face of a young flower maiden, long lashes dusting soft cheeks that were still a little pink from when she had taken her last breath. If Roger didn't know any better, he would've thought she was sleeping, dreaming of a world where the kingdoms knew peace, of a world where she finally found her dearest friend after years of waiting. Well, she did; but their reunion ended all too soon in tragedy. And here they laid, two childhood lovers from Airyglyph, unified in life and now, in death.

"I miss ya, Ameena," Roger whispered tearfully, eyes red and puffy from all those hours of crying, but the tears just wouldn't stop.

On shaky feet, he rose and approached the pedestal, a long chain of Palmira blossoms, all 100 of them, trailing in his wake as he clutched them in his small hands. He had picked them up from Ameena's home in Peterny and completed the wishing charm as soon as he could. She would have wanted it.

Ameena and Dion were given a private service in this very chapel, while the other bodies were placed outside in the royal courtyard before hundreds of weeping families and loved ones. The two lovers had been given the highest honor in their deaths for their bravery and valiant sacrifice – a collective decision made by the ruling bodies of the three regions. Born from Airyglyph, resided in Aquaria, and fought to save Sanmite like they were one of them; Ameena and Dion were truly children of the land, embodiments of peace and hope for the future.

"I told 'em ya were a hero; that ya risked yer life ta stop the war; when ya saved my pops from those bright lights… when ya saved _me_."

Roger reached out to smoothen the hair across her forehead, eyes focused on the girl's peaceful face, before the guilt and reality caught up and he collapsed atop her chest as he broke down for the second time that afternoon.

"I'm so sorry, Ameena! I… f-failed you! And n-now… I'll never see you again. I'm so, so sorry…"

He shuddered as another sob wrecked through him, but there were no tears left to cry. He had promised to protect her like how she always used to look out for him; give her a new life in Surferio under the warm, inviting sun; and safeguard her happiness until the time came to say goodbye. But he didn't get to do any of those things, and for that he felt like such a failure.

"Thank ya fer being a part of my life, Ameena… no matter how short it was. I… I'll never forget you," he said with so much heart, he felt it breaking. Carefully he looped the wishing charm around Ameena and Dion's interlocked hands. "Rest now. You're free."

With that, Roger leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon Ameena's frozen cheek one last time, before lowering the veil over her face and leaving his dearest friend to rest.

"... She must be very important to you."

He gave a start at the sudden interruption, but quickly relaxed when he recognized the owner of that unmistakably calm and soothing timbre; the (only) voice of reason of their little group of six once upon a time.

"She is," he replied, as he turned around to come face to face with his best friend and most loyal confidant. The humanoid gave a humorless chuckle.

"It appears we both lost someone important today."

Melt sat on the pews, the young wolf boy's piercing yellow eyes quietly observing Roger's every move like a predator tracking its prey, like he was afraid the Menodix would disappear, like he couldn't believe Roger was actually here. Melt's gaze was solemn, contemplative and tired; cuts grazed his bloodied, dirt-stained cheeks; the fur of his bushy tail matted and dull as it hung limply over the seat. Judging by his puffy eyes, Roger knew his friend had been crying – and he had every reason to: his mother's body laid outside at the courtyard, dead – just like the other humanoids who had lost their lives from the senseless slaughter of war.

 _A war I started_ , Roger reminded himself bitterly. If he hadn't left Surferio, his people would have never gotten involved, Melt's mom would still be _alive_ , and none of this would have happened.

"Melt, I…" Roger bit his lip as he took a seat next to his friend. "I'm sorry about yer mom… I…" He shut his eyes tightly, willing a fresh wave of tears away. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't gone against my pops, none of our people would have ta die…"

The real man contest from months ago flashed through his mind and he gave a violent shudder.

"I'm so sorry, Melt. Ya suffered 'cuz of me… and now ya have ta suffer again fer my mistakes…"

The chapel echoed with those last words, before all fell still. The ensuing silence was unbearable, but after what felt like hours, the young elementist finally spoke.

"You're absolutely right." Melt's eyes flashed dangerously. "This war wouldn't have happened if you hadn't run away from home. Sanmite wouldn't have pumped its remaining resources to feed our soldiers. The Prime Minister wouldn't be coerced to make such a rash decision. Children wouldn't be outside crying for their dead parents, who had little choice but to serve their nation. _My mother would still be alive!_ "

Roger winced, his ears flattening shamefully against his skull.

"... Would be what I'd say if I chose to remain ignorant."

Roger gasped and stared at his best friend with wide, disbelieving eyes. _Wait, did he mean…?_

"Melt…"

"The fact of the matter is, I came up with the plan to help you escape the village that night. I am not so cruel and irresponsible to rid myself completely off the blame," Melt began as he recounted the memories from the past few weeks, addressing the situation with a maturity beyond his years. "Airyglyph and Aquaria's relationship and tolerance towards each other was stretched incredibly thin. The war would have happened anyway, like it or not. Alas…" A haunting sadness entered his eyes, before he blinked it away. "None of us could have foreseen this happening. These strange beings from the stars and that engineer companion of yours… what in the world _was_ that?"

"Beats me," said Roger with a shrug. He could still feel the soft caress of snow-white feathers against his cheeks, before they disintegrated in little bursts of light when Fayt descended from the sky and collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.

"Hmm… I take it they're not from Greeton after all?"

"Melt?"

Said boy was taken by surprise when the Menodix launched himself at him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Roger's fingers dug into the thick material of Melt's robes and clung tight, taking comfort in the familiar scent of his best friend and home.

"... Thank ya."

It sounded a little muffled, but Melt heard it and returned the embrace with a sincere smile. He buried his nose behind Roger's ear and his tail wagged in both content and relief.

"It is good to have my brother back."

They pulled away to regard each other. A fierce determination entered Roger's eyes as he gazed into the tired gold irises of the older boy before him. He couldn't allow Melt to pay for the mistakes he made for the third time.

"I swear, I'll do whatever it takes ta make things right," he resolved. "I swear to ya and my people."

Unbeknownst to the pair, a certain red haired Aquarian commander had witnessed their exchange with a bittersweet fondness. Once upon a time, she would join them as a member of their strange little ragtag family. But that was before Airyglyph attacked. Before her father died. Before Clair, Tynave and Farleen burned along with the town of Arias. Before she sullied her own hands with blood. Of all the mourners outside, both humanoid and Glyphian alike, how many deaths had she been responsible for? As wartime commander of Aquaria, how many more souls would she need to damn to hell? If only things could go back to the way they were; when Aznor Huxley mourned her father's passing and welcomed her, the only human girl, into the Lost City with open arms and an open heart; when she was Lieutenant Nel to a bunch of mischievous humanoid children. However, political relations between the three regions had crumbled like dust in the wind, and its poor people were left to pick up the pieces of a world they once knew. If only there was someone to blame, but even she knew that directing her anger to those strange flying vehicles in the skies wouldn't serve any purpose. At the end of the day, it was their world, not anyone else's.

"Nel? You do not have to hide anymore. I know you are there."

The Aquarian gave a start from being found out, but should have known better; after all, there was no fooling a humanoid's senses. Taking a deep breath, Nel composed herself before stepping out from the shadows and into the dim candlelight. The sight of her disheveled appearance made Roger gasp and all reservation towards their current situation, forgotten. So accustomed to the Aquarian's grace and beauty was he, that her sallow cheeks, tired eyes and sickeningly pale skin shocked him and filled his heart with barefaced concern. The woman looked like she was undergoing a lot of stress and was on the verge of fainting.

"Nel, oh geez… are ya ok? C'mere, sit down. I gotcha."

Nel accepted the boy's hand gratefully and lowered herself onto the bench. She shifted awkwardly under their scrutiny. Honestly, she hadn't thought things through till to this point, especially since she hadn't planned on getting caught. It was Roger's curiosity of course, which broke the silence.

"What're ya doing here, Nel? Don't ya have other, uh, military duties to attend ta?" he asked.

She shook her head. "At the moment, no. Now's not the time for war. Besides, her majesty and the Prime Minister are discussing what to do about the new threat… and our guests."

"Ah, the so-called engineers from Greeton and their new leader?" said Melt perceptively.

"That would be them."

Nel raised her gaze to the pedestal adorned with Palmira flowers, lingering sadly at the chain that bound the couple's interlocked hands. "I came to pay my respects to the heroes of Gaitt," she explained with a forlorn shake of her head. "Their actions have put mine to shame."

"Ya got that right," Roger said with a sigh at the same time Melt pondered their words.

"Hmm… do you mean to say this Ameena girl is a martyr?" he clarified.

"Huh?" Oh, nuttin' fancy like that," Roger waved him off with a fond laugh, gaze softening at the memory of Ameena's bright, innocent smile and her love for the world. "She was just an ordinary girl, but with big dreams and a heart of gold. She was the purest person I've ever met… Did ya know what she's always dreamed of, apart from peace?"

At Melt and Nel's questioning stares, Roger chuckled, though his lower lip quivered from how emotional his memories about Ameena made him feel.

"She wanted ta visit the lost city," he answered. "It was sorta her fairytale. She… she wanted to see the sun."

Melt's gaze turned sad and a new wave of appreciation and respect formed for this human girl with humble wishes. His eyes flicked to Ameena's body on the pedestal, contemplative.

"Say, Roger, we could always – "

"Melt!"

Instantly, three pairs of eyes turned to face the chapel doors. A humanoid stood proud and regal at the entrance; his long, dark tail trailing on the floor and his expression aged. The wolf man wore long, elegant blue robes similar to what Melt was wearing and in his right hand, he clutched a tall arcane staff. Narrowed golden eyes worn out from grief and tears, searched the room and landed on Melt's form. He beckoned the boy in a calm, quiet voice.

"Come, son. Sir Malroy has recalled the troops. It is time to return home."

"Yes, father." Melt shot Roger a lingering look, before pulling the younger into a tight embrace. "Come home soon. We missed you."

Roger returned the hug. "Don't worry, I'll be back sooner than ya think!"

Melt jumped off the pews and followed after his father. The chapel doors shut with a soft 'boom', leaving Nel and Roger alone to their own devices. A beat, before Roger turned wide, hopeful eyes up at Nel. There were so many things he wanted to say, to ask, to apologize for, and he didn't know where or how to begin.

"Nel, I–"

But before he could say anymore, Nel surged forward and pulled him tenderly into her arms. With trembling fingers, she stroked his soft, unruly hair and finally, after hours of fighting against her weakness and pretending to be brave, Nel finally allowed herself to cry. Roger simply allowed himself to be held as he reached around her to pat her on the back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. It broke his heart to see the woman he loved like a sister fall into such despair; and suddenly, all the misunderstandings and months of being apart changed nothing. Forgiveness came easily and naturally. All that mattered was that they were ok and they had each other.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed brokenly, all the stress and pent up misery from the war and personal losses taking its toll on her. Memories assaulted her mind in flashes. Years ago, Aznor took her in and she betrayed her only family. Now, Clair, Tynave and Farleen were gone, and she felt like she was an orphan all over again.

"Roger, what have I done? You're all I have and… and I almost lost you…"

Her words only made Roger cling on tighter.

"Oh, Nel…" He nuzzled her neck affectionately. "Don't cry, I'm here and I ain't going nowhere. It don't matter if we're from different kingdoms; yer family, remember? _My_ lieutenant. And we stick with each other no matter what!"

When Roger pulled back, Nel's eyes were shining, not with tears but a renewed hope.

"Even after everything… you really are a real man," she commented with a fond smile. "Thank you, Roger. I promise, I 'll do whatever it takes to make things right. I just hope your father can find it within his heart to forgive Aquaria for what they've done to your people…"

"Are ya kidding me?" said Roger with a playful grin in a bid to lighten the mood. "He's saying he hopes Aquaria can find it in their heart to forgive _him_! Besides, this entire war, that was all Vox's doing: he forced Airyglyph's hand, he coerced my people, he _pushed_ for conflict… but he's gone now."

Nel nodded her head in assent. "Yes, albeit unconventionally," she muttered, her tone troubled as she recalled the late Glyphian General's demise from those strange falling lights. Then there was Fayt: the boy had ascended to the clouds like an angel, completely obliterated the terrifying vessel like it was nothing and saved them all.

"Roger, can I ask you something?" said Nel as she looked her young companion in the eye. "Did you know?"

It wasn't difficult to figure out who she was referring to, or _what_ she was actually asking.

"Nah, Fayt never said a word," he replied with a tinge of resentment. "Guess they lied ta us all." He cocked his head at his next statement, "That why that big lummox ain't following ya around no more?"

Nel averted her gaze to the bodies on the pedestal and Roger could immediately see that it was the Aquarian's way of masking her feelings of hurt and betrayal.

"I don't think I have the strength to confront Cliff now," she replied feebly. "It'll be hard, but I think - and at this her heart wavered - I think I'll be able to forgive him in time. But not right now."

"Guess that makes one of us," said Roger, and Nel snapped her gaze up to regard him with honest surprise. Never had she heard the usually kind and innocent boy sound so cold, and it was then she realised how much Fayt had actually hurt him.

"Roger…"

"I'll _never_ forgive him, Nel," he snarled, teeth bared and brown eyes flashing. His fingers dug into the wood of the bench so fiercely, they turned white and trembled from the intensity. Fayt's smiling face flashed through his mind as he remembered each and every kiss and passionate embrace they shared with haunting clarity. He didn't realise he was crying, until he felt a familiar wetness trail down his cheeks.

"For what?" she dared to asked.

Roger's gaze remained transfixed on Ameena's cold, unmoving body. Distantly, he could still hear the despairing wails and broken sobs of humanoid mourners beyond the chapel walls. They filled his ears, along with a foreboding voice that hissed and told him that things would never be the same again.

"Everything."

* * *

Silence ticked by in an agonizing crawl for the two occupants in the room. The elder – a Menodix male short in stature, yet large in character and spirit – stood by the tall windows of the queen's private study to observe the proceedings in the palace courtyard below, while the younger – a beautiful woman possessing a deep wisdom beyond her years – busied herself at the desk as she carefully penned her letter. For a few good moments, there was nothing save the rhythmic scratching of quill against parchment. Neither party seemed particularly keen to broach the subject, but the sun was setting and the Menodix's time as an honored guest was almost up.

"Romeria, I thank you for your graciousness," said Aznor, stepping away from the window to give the holy mother and Aquaria's ruler his full attention. "Not many would've taken lightly to my foolish actions, especially when an entire nation's sovereignty and its people were threatened as consequence." He bowed deeply. "May Apris bless you for your mercy."

The quill paused in its movements, as Romeria looked up to fix Sanmite's Prime Minister with a sympathetic smile.

"You've always had a kind heart, dear Aznor. Do not torture yourself for acting out of love. If I had a child of my own, I would've done the same. It is only human," she said, going back to her letter as she dipped her quill tip into the ink. "Duke Vox was a deceitful man and a bloodthirsty tyrant; but the past is the past and we can't afford any further clashes. Your issue shouldn't be with Airyglyph and its people."

Aznor shot her an assuring stare. "It isn't."

"Good. It would be wise to put this matter behind us and deal with this new threat in the most effective way possible."

"Does Arzei know what's going on?" he asked, to which Romeria shook her head.

"I believe the king is just as in the dark as we are, if not more so from Duke Vox's planned insurgence."

Aznor gave a loud sigh of pity. "It saddens me to hear such stories of betrayal, especially between one's own flesh and blood. Arzei always was too trusting of his uncle… and I know how much he hurt you because of that, Romeria."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Aznor immediately regretted it. The sorrow and pain he saw in Romeria's eyes pierced his chest, and he remembered exactly why this incident was something she never wished to speak of ever again. He had overstepped his boundaries and forgotten his place. Fortunately, the queen was in a benevolent mood and allowed his transgression to slide.

"... The past is the past, Aznor. It would do you good to not dwell on it," said Romeria in finality, before she sealed the envelope and called for the royal messenger.

Once the deed was done, Romeria joined Aznor by the window as they gazed silently out towards the horizon, at the grey skies and frigid mountaintops of Airyglyph in the distance.

"You know, none of this makes any sense. Do you think Arzei will even come?" asked Aznor.

"I am certain, yes."

"What makes you so sure?"

Romeria's stare never once wavered.

"Because I asked him as an old friend."

* * *

The cell was dark and dank, its walls partially frozen from the outside, within from the merciless onslaught of the Traum Mountain's icy storm. Winds howled through the prison bars like a pack of wolves on the hunt, but the mind-numbing solitude and biting temperatures did nothing to shake the once proud Black Brigade Captain's composure. Chains rattled; there was movement, but only the briefest bit of life, before the prisoner slumped against the wall, defeated and still once more. The man's long, two-tone hair, which once stood as a symbol of power, honor and nobility, had been cut out of its binds and draped his face and body in messy, matted tresses. Angry red cuts and welts from the Inquisitor's whip marred the skin of his chest, back and arms; but the cold helped ease their recovery like a stinging, soothing balm. Crimson eyes gazed listlessly between bangs at a skeleton chained to the wall opposite. His cellmate didn't make for quality entertainment, but given his taciturn disposition, he supposed it didn't really matter. Glou Nox was waiting for him in hell, but he didn't have the courage to face his father in death. His gauntlet was gone and the mark of the dragon burned as deep as his humiliation.

Albel Nox was a broken man.

He couldn't even die.

And yet, for all his suffering, the only thought that continued to plague him was that he would never see that foolish humanoid boy again.

The Glyphian was so consumed in self-pity that he failed to register the presence of another, until his cell doors slammed open to reveal the silhouette of his king.

Arzei Bohnleid dismissed his escort and guard on duty, wishing to speak with the prisoner alone. Once the footsteps and the clanking sounds of armor faded, Airyglyph's king stepped into the cold cell and paused before the beaten and miserable soldier, quietly observing and assessing the young man's current state of wear. Albel kept his head bowed, not out of respect but from shame, and it both saddened and disappointed Arzei to see how far Glou's son had fallen, to see a once great legacy slip through the cracks of time. Before, Albel's efforts and failure to perform would evoke displeasure and frustration from him; now, with certain circumstances being brought to light, Arzei only felt remorse and a deep regret for the ill-treatment he had subjugated (arguably and ironically) his most loyal knight.

Despite the callous and distant way Albel carried himself before figures of authority, his loyalty and devotion to the throne was unquestionable. He fought for the glory of his kingdom, performed his duties without question, struggled against the discrimination and loneliness in honor of upholding his father's dying name in a city that feared and loathed his existence – and yet, Albel never asked for anything or begged for sympathy. Arzei's only regret was that he only saw this now.

 _Perhaps it's not too late._

"Raise your head, Albel Nox. You are better than this."

However, all he received was a contemptuous chuckle for his troubles.

"Better than this, you say? Well, allow me to refresh your memory," said Albel, inclining his head to glare furiously at the king, rattling his chains for emphasis. " _This_ was what you decreed!"

Albel's statement rang loud and true throughout the underground prison, the indignation and hatred in his voice palpable. It made Arzei shut his eyes momentarily in remorse.

"I understand your anger. It is not unfounded, and I concede that I have made an… error in judgment," he confessed, readying his next words. "That is why… I'm lifting your sentence, Nox. From this moment forth, you are no longer Airyglyph's prisoner."

That definitely got Albel's attention, who fixed him with a perplexed yet doubtful stare. He didn't dare hope for a miracle.

"Why?" he breathed suspiciously. There had to be a catch. There always was.

"Duke Vox is dead," Arzei began his explanation as he paced up and down the cell, struggling how to feel about his uncle's recent passing. "It was soon brought to my attention that he had planned an insurgence behind my back to claim the throne as his. The war and victory over Aquaria and the Sanmite Republic would have secured that right."

He paused to study the ex-captain's face. "For years, you had spoken up against Vox's opinions – sometimes even disrespecting his position and mine as your king. But I see now that there was intent behind your lack of discretion. I have clearly misjudged you, Nox, and for that I apologise."

Albel's eyes widened at the king's words and his humility gave him pause. Arzei was pardoning him? No, even better, he was lowering himself – _a king!_ – before a… a… Albel didn't even know _what_ he was now exactly. He had lost his position and right to Captain of the Black Brigade at the moment of his treachery and failure to capture the humanoid child. On that day, he had lost everything he had worked so hard to carve in his name: his citizenship, his nobility, his credibility, his hornor and dignity, and his freedom. But now, Arzei said he was a free man. Albel didn't know what to do about this new information, so he hid his confusion with his usual mask of contempt.

"Humph, I take it we lost the war."

"I'm afraid the situation is far more complicated than that," Arzei replied and immediately recounted the events up to this point to the ex-captain to keep him up to speed. To say Albel was astounded was an understatement; the man was utterly blown away.

"I received a letter from the queen personally requesting my audience," Arzei continued, holding up said letter before Albel's curious gaze. "Aquaria's queen and Sanmite's prime minister wish to hold a discussion about this new threat to our world, alongside those so-called engineers of course. The kingdoms cannot afford another war."

"And where, pray tell, will this discussion take place?" said Albel with open skepticism. He was still having difficulty wrapping his mind around the strange situation. "Are they so ignorant to believe that we would agree to send our king to Aquarian soil?"

"That is why the meeting point will not be at Aquios," replied Arzei. "It will be held at Gaitt's center: in the lost city of Surferio."

Albel nearly choked on his own saliva. _They're opening the gates?_

"This is where you come in," Arzei interrupted the younger man's thoughts. "Nox, I would like to appoint you as my new personal aid and escort. Your military accolades speak highly of your person. I can think of no other who I can trust with my life."

The sheer audacity of the king's request made Albel snort. "Bah! Do you plan to leave me here to rot if I refuse?"

And for the third time that day, Arzei's response surprised him.

"No," said the king and to prove his point, he retrieved a key from his robes and unlocked the shackles that bound Albel's wrists to the wall. "It is as I said: you are free off all transgressions and are not obligated to accept my terms. If you decline your new position, then it is as you wish. As your king, I can force my hand… but in honor of your late father's legacy, I will respect your dignity and freedom of choice."

Albel rubbed his wrists experimentally, getting the blood flowing again and relishing in his newfound freedom. This was crazy, utterly mad. Normally, one wouldn't bother questioning a generous proposal such as this, but he did. After years of being treated with nothing but scorn and grueling tolerance, it was hard to believe anyone, let alone King Arzei, regard him with such positive standing. It was like the whole world had gone mad after the arrival of that foreign vessel… and perhaps it did; after all, if someone had told him yesterday that Airyglyph, Aquaria and Sanmite had agreed to join forces, he would have died laughing.

 _But what do I choose?_

If what Arzei had said was true, then he could walk out those doors and leave the royal city forever. No more pain, no more ghosts; only an unknown future in a land with an undecided present. He wouldn't have to answer to anyone, or live in his father's shadow for the rest of his waking existence. He'd be _free_ , and yet…

Albel's gaze trailed to the mark of the dragon on his arm and let his fingers ghost over its design. A symbol of honor. Proof of his status as a dragon knight. Testimony as the last descendant of the proud Nox clan. Glou always said that things happened for a reason and Albel was inclined to believe his tattoo qualified for that. He was never blessed with the mark, but now he bore it – a stark red against pale flesh – and even he knew that that had to mean something. That was when he realised… that was when he _remembered_ he was more than the person in this very cell. He was Albel Nox: son of Glou Nox, blood heir to the Nox family who walked amongst dragons, master swordsman, a rightful dragon knight and… defender of his people. Arzei was his king. Airyglyph was his home.

 _I must be out of my mind._

"… I don't have a sword," he finally said, mentally cursing that second rate blue-haired swordsman for breaking his faithful katana during their last fight.

Arzei allowed himself a rare smile at the wicked one's words. Albel had an odd way of expressing himself, of that he understood. The king knew how to read between the lines.

"Follow me."

The two made their way out of the castle dungeons and to avoid causing a scene or inspiring unwanted questions, took a secret passage that led straight to the king's private quarters. Albel followed closely behind, expression cold and unreadable as always, but his posture remained tense, reflecting his unease and trepidation for what lay beyond those chamber doors.

"Close the door behind you," instructed Arzei as soon as they entered the private study.

Albel did just so and when he got properly settled, Arzei crossed the room to unlock the door of the royal treasury. The implications actually made Albel blanch. He could only think of one reason why they were here. Now he _knew_ the king was really out of his mind.

"Come, and claim your birthright," Arzei beckoned and Albel hesitantly moved to stand by his king.

At the center of the treasure trove, glowing and bathed in ethereal light, stood a sword of incredible power. Albel had heard about this legendary blade, as did all of Airyglyph. The Sword of the Crimson Scourge, forged out of the blood of ancient dragons, was passed down through the ages from the ancient Kingdom of Aquor. Legend had it that when wielded by one who was worthy, the sword could even cleave the sky in two. Of course, Albel had no time for that preposterous nonsense. What he cared about was the consequences of being deemed unworthy: in the best case, the sword takes over its wielder's mind; in the worst case, it consumes both body and soul. The Crimson Scourge tempted the would-be wielder with dark thoughts of hatred and greed. Vox himself had tried to wield it, but had fallen under its sway. None had the heart or the strength of will to master the sword, except one.

"The only person the Crimson Scourge has ever acknowledge as its master was your father, Glou Nox," said Arzei as he fixed Albel with a meaningful stare. "And now, it will acknowledge you."

"Enough!" Albel growled and stepped away from the king, crimson eyes flashing dangerously. "You are foolish in your ideals if you believe this sword would ever deem me worthy."

Arzei frowned at the younger one's words. "Nox, do you hate me and this kingdom so much that you would ignore its cries for help?"

"I don't hate anything but myself!" Albel shouted, all the pain and desperation he kept locked up inside, finally had an outlet. How much more would Arzei make him suffer before he had enough?

"I hate myself for the inexperience that makes me a failure in battle! I hate myself for the selfishness that will not allow me to accept others! I hate myself for the arrogance that makes me look down on those weaker than I! I hate myself for my suspicion-filled heart that distrusts my king! I hate myself for the jealous nature that makes me envious of those superior to me! I hate myself for my fear that prevents me from loving others! And I hate myself for the death of my father, brought by own impotence! _Do you honestly still think I'm worthy of the sword?!_ "

Despite his emotional outburst, Arzei smiled a knowing smile. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

Confused, Albel averted his gaze to the Crimson Scourge, only to gape at the sight before him. The golden glow, which surrounded the legendary sword, had vanished. At Arzei's curt nod, Albel tentatively approached the blade and pulled it from its stand. It thrummed a bright red upon contact with his skin, singing praise for his humility, before the light faded and Albel was left to ponder over the implications of his actions.

"A splendid accomplishment indeed, Albel," Arzei congratulated the young knight, the pride in his eyes evident as he gazed upon Glou's heir and only son. "Your father would have been proud."

This was too much for him to take in.

"Why did you choose me? Why did you agree to meet the queen and the prime minister after everything that's happened?" Albel asked in a helpless whisper, trying to make sense of all these sudden and monumental changes. Taking pity on the boy, Arzei decided to explain himself.

"Truth be told, I never wanted this war, but I foolishly allowed Vox's words to sway my judgment and fill my head with paranoia. I lost so much from the fighting, especially a dear friendship with an old friend, and I just want to make things right." He paused and turned his full attention to Albel. "I haven't been a very good king to you and my people and for that, I'm sorry."

The king's words touched something deep within the wicked one's cold heart, but he'd be damned if he allowed any form of weakness to show. And so, humbled and too overwhelmed by the latest string of events, Albel said the one thing his mind could manage:

"When do we leave?"

"First thing in the morning."

He nodded and turned to depart for his sleeping quarters.

"Goodnight… your majesty."

Airyglyph's ruler gave a start and watched his new personal aid disappear down the corridor, realizing with a certain fondness that Albel Nox had acknowledged him as king for the first time in almost 10 years.

 _To be continued..._

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 **Author's note:  
**

Ameena's parts always make me cry :,) and yay, Albel! I finally redeemed that sad bugger because I love him too much and his backstory pleases me. Things are going to be tough between Fayt and Roger at this point. Nel and Roger are hurting pretty bad from the betrayal and lies, so hopefully they find it within their hearts to eventually forgive the two men who love them. Also, is that jealousy I sense from Maria and Mirage? And don't think I've forgotten about Albel's pinning for our favorite Menodix ;)

As always, feel free to leave a review if you like my story. Thanks for reading and see you in the next update.


	3. The Lost City

**Author's note:**

I'm back with an update and it's a doozy! Also, no, it's not an April Fool's joke.

* * *

 **Review response:**

 _CelestialSkye72 -_ _I couldn't thank you enough for your sweet and encouraging review! :) Please continue to enjoy reading my stories as much as I enjoy writing them. Also, please continue to ship Fayt/Roger and Albel/Roger with me because after 13 years, this fandom is still a very lonely place 8,)_

* * *

 **Resonance of Faith**

 **by darkinterval**

 **Chapter 3: The Lost City**

* * *

Daybreak, and the start to a brand new morning of which Fayt wasn't exactly looking forward to. In fact, he had spent the better portion of his sleep tossing and turning on the mattress; the rest of it was spent in misery as he laid awake in the darkness of his room, staring blankly at the ceiling as he agonized over what he would say to Aquaria's ruler come sunrise. They had promised the Queen a brief explanation and were due to set off to rendezvous with the King of Airyglyph and Prime Minister Aznor at Surferio – and the mere thought of holding a serious discussion with the continent's three leaders in the same room was enough to make Fayt sick in the stomach. He barely understood any of this himself; after all, he had literally been told that he was actually a product of illegal symbolical genetics research spearheaded by his own father, the moment he came to. Fast forwards 12 hours and the notion still sounded ludicrous to him; he didn't know _what_ to do with this information apart from wishing it never existed, so he crushed that thought and tossed it at the back of his mind to be speculated on another day.

Unfortunately, that day came the moment the cock crowed dawn, and Fayt found himself nervously standing outside the palace throne room with Cliff, Mirage and Maria, as their little party of four awaited their audience with the queen.

"Sleep well?" asked Cliff with a sardonic quirk of his lips.

"Ha-ha, very funny," said Fayt with a roll of his eyes. "As if anyone could sleep after that brouhaha yesterday…"

"I did. Knocked out as soon as my head hit the pillow. Slept like a baby too!"

"Now you're just being annoying."

"If you two are quite finished, I'd like to ask you a question, Fayt," Maria stepped forward to interrupt the bickering pair; and the moment her eyes landed on the handsome Earthian, her serious expression melted into one of genuine concern. "Are you alright? You look a little pale…" At his hesitance, her gaze turned guilty. "Fayt, I… I'm sorry if my explanation yesterday cost you your rest, but please understand that it's without any ill intent. You have the right to know, even if the truth sometimes isn't what we expect or want to hear."

Emerald eyes studied the other's intently. They looked so alike, Fayt realised, eerily so with their matching blue hair, vibrant green eyes and confident, self-assured dispositions. Their facial structures also bled some resemblance, especially the high cut of their cheekbones and the incline of their jawlines. But the similarities ended there; while he was fun loving, passionate and known to have a stubborn streak, Maria was calm, methodical and came across as rather arrogant; their personalities were a far cry from each other. And yet, their pasts were the same, and even though they each grew up to leave radically different lives in different galaxies, their paths crossed and here they were; grappling at the reigns of an unknown present. The least he could do as a gentleman was to be a little more understanding of her current position.

"Don't worry about it," he said with a faint smile. "It's like you said, I needed to know the truth, even if I'm not 100% onboard with what you're saying. It's hard to accept what I am and what's happening, but I'm trying."

"I appreciate that," she acknowledged with a smile of her own, as she reached out to touch his arm. "And I'll be here every step of the way to help. You can trust me."

Fayt smirked at that. "Do I have a choice?"

Maria hid a giggle behind her hand, eyes twinkling; and Fayt thought with an odd flutter in his stomach, that the expression suited her.

Unbeknownst to the pair, the two Klausians shot them twin looks of concern, but otherwise made no move to intervene. If what was happening was what they thought was happening, then it was probably for the best for everyone.

Suddenly, the towering doors of the throne room parted, causing the four of them to jump. A guard stepped through and saluted them in typical Aquarian fashion. "Her Majesty will see you now," was the formal announcement, before she bowed deeply and slowly backed away. Shooting each other apprehensive stares and at Cliff's noncommittal shrug, the party entered the vast throne room and paused at the base of the stairs. Atop the steps upon a regal cathedra sat none other than Queen Romeria, her face impassive and expectant all at once. She quietly observed these so-called engineers from another world; on her right stood Laselle, her royal advisor and court magistrate; but what really surprised the party was the figures of two very prominent, very familiar Elicoorians standing patiently and diligently on the queen's left. Fayt's eyes lingered on the shorter of the pair longingly. It felt like ages since he last saw and held Roger in his arms, but his boyfriend had been avoiding him like a plague and he missed him.

Nel had her hands behind her and stood straight-backed, chin high and posture as poised and dignified as always. She kept her gaze fixed on the group at the foot of the stairs, but would conveniently avoid Cliff's eyes every time he looked her way. The cold treatment was disconcerting; it was almost as if the past few weeks of friendship and comradery didn't happen and Nel had went back to the way she once was when they first met in Airyglyph's dungeons. Next to her, Roger had his arms crossed, expression hard and uncharacteristically unreadable. Although he fidgeted occasionally and found it hard to control the agitated swish of his tail, the Menodix held his ground and unmistakably, Fayt's gaze. Never had he seen Roger this serious; the change unsettled Fayt and he unconsciously leaned towards Maria, who stood next to him. Quark's leader shot him a reassuring stare; Fayt returned it; and a flicker of emotion flashed across the Menodix's eyes – surprise, confusion, resentment and the slightest bit of hurt. He saw that.

"Commander Zelpher is my head of military and personal escort; and Roger Huxley will be representing his father while the Prime Minister prepares for our arrival," Romeria explained to the group as if reading their minds. "They have the right to know – and I believe, considering the camaraderie you share with each other, they too deserve an explanation."

 _Roger? So that's him,_ Maria thought as she discreetly scrutinised the little humanoid next to the throne, _he's the one who triggered Fayt's powers._ But what made him so special? As far as she could tell, he was just an ordinary country bumpkin – and Fayt cared about him? She wondered about the nature of their relationship and couldn't help but feel the slightest twinge of jealousy. Shaking it off, she went down on one knee.

"With all do respect, your majesty; they may be acquaintances of my colleagues, but this matter is of strict confidentiality and doesn't involve them. We agreed to speak with the leaders of the kingdoms involved in the conflict. This isn't part of the arrangement."

Roger glared down at the new girl with the strange clothes. Who did she think she was, barging in on their lives like that, taking control and speaking for the rest as if their opinions didn't matter? As far as he understood, she didn't know the full situation of their world, yet touted like she did. He _did not_ like the way she brushed him and Nel off so thoughtlessly. _Humph, 'acquaintances'_ – who was she to speak of things she didn't even understand? And what was worse than her sharp tongue, was Fayt choosing to support her words through his silences. Why wasn't he defending them? How could he let this stranger talk to them like that? Less than a minute and he already disliked this bossy girl from the stars.

"How dare you use that tone with her majesty?" Laselle interrupted with a downturned lip. "You will do what is asked of you and apologize to the Holy Mother-"

"Silence, Laselle." Romeria raised her hand at her advisor, before turning sharp vermillion eyes to the newcomer. "'Maria Traydor', was it? Indeed, we have spoken about the matter yesterday and the nations have agreed to a conference with the four of you present for a thorough explanation. However, you ask me to trust with my eyes and believe what I barely understand, before departing my kingdom on a pilgrimage to a sacred city that no human has ever entered, not for hundreds of years. At the very least, we are allowed a preamble."

None of them missed the Queen's emphasis on the word 'we'. Maria hesitated.

"But, your majesty–"

"Alright," Fayt interrupted as he stepped forward. No use hiding anymore. They violated the UP3 enough as it was. Besides, Aquaria's ruler had shown them nothing but kindness, graciousness and hospitality since their arrival. It would be reasonable to grant her this simple request if only to give her a peace of mind.

"Your majesty, as you're probably aware of by now, Cliff, Mirage, Maria and I are not from your world. In fact, the four of us are from different worlds – and there are many more worlds out there besides ours, besides your own; even worlds that have yet to be explored in the cosmos. And the people of these worlds lead very different lives, some in concord and some in disagreement with others," he paused in his explanation to bow his head in regret. "Currently, some of these worlds are at war. I'm not entirely sure of the situation, but I believe that those who attacked us yesterday, the Vendeeni? I believe… I'm their objective."

 _Other worlds? War?_ Roger and Nel thought, perplexed. Gaitt alone was a vast plain and that wasn't counting the uncharted territory of Greeton. It was difficult to imagine there were other places – no, _entire civilizations_ beyond their never-ending skies. 'So _that's_ why Fayt's technology is so advanced,' Roger realised as he thought back to that fascinating navigator device they tried repairing prior to the war's outbreak. But the once pleasant memories and innocent days spent together only left a deep and painful scar in his heart. Not only had Fayt betrayed him, but he had also lied to him. Fayt had been lying to him all this time, and it hurt Roger to realise that perhaps he had lied about his love for him too. Fayt was from another _world_ ; he never intended to stay; their relationship was nothing more than a fling and he had been played a fool.

Meanwhile, Maria continued to gape at Fayt in surprise, but otherwise did nothing to stop him. If he was willing to place his trust in these people, then she supposed she had to trust his better judgment; after all, he and her subordinates had been stuck here much longer than she preferred and knew the ways better.

"A war?" the Queen echoed. "I believe Commander Zelpher has mentioned this to me before. Your father was kidnapped by the enemy, which resulted in your quest to save him, correct?"

Fayt nodded. "Yes, your majesty."

"And am I right to presume that the enemy is the same one responsible for that attack on _Aire Hills?_ This so-called 'Vendeeni'?"

Again, he nodded.

"Then all we would have to do is hand you over to them, and they'll go away," said Laselle, voicing everyone's thoughts.

But Romeria wasn't having any of that.

"Laselle, you are to remain silent!"

"Y-Yes, your majesty." He lowered his gaze meekly and the Queen stood.

As Romeria slowly and calmly descended the steps, Fayt watched her approach them with nervous eyes; every step she took closer a resounding 'boom' in his head that paralleled the anxious beating of his heart. Meanwhile, Nel and Roger trailed after the royal sovereign and kept a respectable distance.

"As much as it would make sense to simply give you to the Vendeeni, I cannot do that," said Romeria, stopping to address Fayt and conveying her sincerity through her gaze. "You – she glanced up at Cliff and Mirage – all of you are our guests. Moreover, you have placed your lives at risk and directly aided Aquaria during the conflict. I cannot speak for the other nations, but as Queen of this kingdom, I am grateful for your devotion. You did not abandon us when we needed your help. It would be improper for us to abandon you now."

Her compassion was humbling and Cliff bowed gratefully, the rest following suit.

"Thank you, your majesty."

She smiled at the blonde. "One good turn deserves another, Sir Fittir."

"Hah, did you hear that?" said Cliff, turning to the group while gesturing at the Queen with a wide grin. "She called me 'sir'!"

Behind the Queen, Nel smacked her forehead and resisted an exasperated sigh. Serious situation aside, some things really didn't change. Romeria simply chuckled.

"We are grateful, your majesty." Maria and Mirage bowed simultaneously.

"T-Thank you," said Fayt, the shock scrambling his brain and leaving him, for once, mostly speechless.

"However," Romeria interrupted, continuing her speech as she looked directly into Fayt's emerald eyes, "Can you answer me one thing, Sir Leingod?"

At the mention of his name (and in such a formal way as well), Fayt stood a whole lot straighter and braced himself once more. "Anything, your majesty."

"Earlier, you mentioned you were the Vendeeni's objective. You did not elaborate on the reasons to substantiate this claim."

"Well, I–"

"May I ask why?"

Fayt immediately bit his lip and hesitated. Fortunately, Mirage was quick was intervene and he mentally thanked her for her intuition and tact.

"Pardon my intrusion, your majesty; but may I suggest we continue this discussion at Surferio?" said the Klausian politely, ever the diplomat. "I'm afraid the explanation you want isn't that simple, and it would benefit all parties to present themselves upfront as a collective to prevent possible misconceptions. This way, it'll be easier for us to better address your questions."

"Hm, very well." Romeria turned to speak to her entourage. "Zelpher, we will leave at once to Surferio. Laselle, ensure all affairs run smoothly while I'm away. Allow the people to continue their mourning and leave the chapel open to visitors, Aquarian, Glyphian and Republican alike."

"Understood, your majesty."

"Roger," she finally directed her attention down at said Menodix, who gazed up at her expectantly. "Your father and King Arzei awaits our arrival. Please, lead the way."

"Ya got it!"

The boy scampered up front and threw a cheeky grin over his shoulder at the faces of Nel, Fayt, Cliff, Mirage, Maria and the Queen as they kept pace. Like Romeria said, his people had not opened the gates to humans in hundreds of years, not since the fall of the ancient kingdom of Aquor. Unfortunate and desperate circumstances aside, this was the most exciting and monumental event in Gaitt's history up to date: the land's three super powers coming together in an act of peace and diplomacy.

"Um, no transportation's allowed inta Surferio by the way. Are ya ok walkin', yer majesty?" asked Roger.

His innocent question brought an amused smile to Romeria lips. "My dear boy, from this moment forth, I am not a queen but your guest. If we are to travel by foot, then I will respect the customs of your kingdom."

"Then please, take this."

On cue, Nel pulled out a thin veil from her person and unfolded it before the queen. The veil was of a lovely silver-blue sheen, which shimmered under the light whenever angled right. It was exquisitely woven with the finest of materials; jewels and sapphires adorned the headpiece; and the veil extended past the shoulders. The delicate garment was as breathtaking as it was beautiful. Romeria reached out and touched the cloth, marveling at its soft texture, startled by its aura.

"This is…" she whispered in awe and disbelief.

"The Aqua Veil, one of Surferio's greatest treasures," Roger explained casually, as if he wasn't talking about a prized artifact that survived the exchange of centuries of hands and power. "A long time ago, after the fall of Aquor and the kingdom split inta Airyglyph, Sanmite and Aquaria, three enchanted objects were promised ta the leaders of each nation: the Crimson Scourge for power, the Sacred Orb for life, and the Aqua Veil for protection. Airyglyph received the sword years ago and now, it's Aquaria's turn." Roger grinned, his earnesty reaching his eyes. "My pops just felt ya should have the veil – ya know, as a sign of peace!"

Cliff, Fayt, Mirage and Maria gathered around to study the veil with interest. _Enchanted artifact?_ Never did they expect the humanoids of this planet to be guardians of such sacred objects of power, especially Maria, who found it difficult to accept the idea that not only was Roger the son of a nation's sovereign, but also that he was no ordinary humanoid child, much less a country bumpkin.

"Hold on a minute," she requested as she whipped out a bio scanner and scanned the veil's surface. Her eyes widened at the readings she was getting; this data was incredible!

"What is it?" Mirage peered over Maria's shoulder to get a good look at the device, only for her gaze to turn solemn. "... I see."

"Is that what I think it is?" said Cliff, approaching them.

Fayt eyed the results and nodded. "Yeah, it's an OPA; but what's it _doing_ here?"

"What? What is it?" Nel and Roger demanded in unison, curious and fascinated over the peculiar device, perplexing numbers and blinking lights. Roger's tail wagged excitedly; was this another one of Fayt's amazing technology?

Tugging on the swordsman's pants, he gazed up at Fayt with big, shining brown eyes. "OPA? What's that? Tell me!"

His insistence and adorable curiosity made Fayt chuckle. "Well, an OPA, or 'Out of place artifact', is what we call objects of great power that far surpass the civilization or technological levels of their worlds of origin," he simplified for the benefit of their companions. "Basically, it's when something is more advanced than expected."

"Well, yeah! Why do ya think we call them 'enchanted'?" Roger countered smugly.

"I don't know about enchanted," replied Fayt with a laugh, "but I do agree that they're treasures worth protecting."

"Heh, don't ya know it!"

The pair grinned at each other, the atmosphere between them lighthearted and carefree like it had been back before the war. It just felt so natural and wonderful to talk to Roger again, but before Fayt could fully savor the brief moment, the Menodix caught himself and quickly closed off again. It was as frustrating as it was painful. Try as he might, he simply couldn't resist the magnetism of Fayt's personality. He missed the comfort his scent and voice brought, and the giddying warmth of the swordsman's gentle touch. He missed the feel of Fayt's lips, his kisses and the passionate way he looked at him as if he was the only person in the world who existed. But Roger refused to give into temptation and make the same mistake twice; he couldn't allow himself to fall for a man who betrayed him and would never love him enough to stay. While he understood that his silence must be driving the blue haired man insane, he figured that some things were better left unsaid.

The mood turned a little tense between them after that, but no one else seemed to have noticed and it was almost as if those last two minutes had never happened.

"Regardless, it is a great honor, Roger," Romeria turned to acknowledge the child with a grateful nod and smile. "Aquor's ancient treasures are truly gifts from the gods. I shall accept the Prime Minister's good will with grace and dignity."

"Your majesty, allow me." Nel stepped forward and carefully replaced the queen's headdress with the Aqua Veil. The silky fabric settled on her crown with a light shudder and ethereal glow, before the light faded and it appeared normal once more. Nel took a step back and gazed on in approval. "There, you are protected."

And so, out of the palace they walked, past the glittering gates of the Holy City and onto the quiet cobblestone streets of Aquois. People bowed and soldiers saluted the Queen as she passed, extending their blessings and wishing her well on her journey. In silence the group walked, hearts uncertain, yet spirits high: Roger led the way; Fayt, Cliff, Mirage and Maria in the middle; and Nel and Romeria brought up the rear. And as the sun crept higher into the sky, Roger could only hope that this fateful meeting would be the very thing their kingdoms needed to bridge centuries of strife and free them from the darkness of the past.

* * *

The moment they stepped out of Aquois and into Irisa Fields, Maria paused to take in her surroundings, splendid in its simplicity, shining with life. The lush green fields were vast and peppered with tall and shady oak trees; the air was crisp and pure; a gentle breeze blew through her long blue hair, musing it playfully; and blades of grass brushed against the thin material of her black stockings as she walked. She had spent majority of her life in Klaus and traveling through the galaxy chasing down the truth, she had forgotten what the sun looked like from her place beneath the clouds, how the wind felt and tasted against her lips, and what nature sounded like. Elicoor II was a lot like Earth, only more enchanting in its purest of forms. The displacement evoked a slight sadness and longing in her soul, as well as a deep anger and resentment for the scientists who denied her a normal life she always craved. She could have lived on Earth with her mother; she could have been happy.

Suddenly, her eyes caught sight of the rocky mountains in the distance – the very ones she remembered passing over on her flight post Vendeeni confrontation. She wondered about Lieber and Marietta. _I hope they're safe_ , she thought, _I hope we can make this work._

"Hey, you alright?" interrupted a gruff voice, followed by a comforting hand upon her shoulder.

Maria managed a slight smile. "You know me, Cliff," she turned to face the blonde. "I'll manage, I always have."

But the knowing look didn't go away; she couldn't stand his perceptive gaze and forced herself to look away. At least Cliff didn't pity her and for that she was thankful. However, displays of concern made her feel vulnerable and she loathed confronting the memories of her past. The scars were still way too raw.

"Anyway, where's Fayt?" she opted for a change in subject, suddenly realizing that the blue haired teen was nowhere to be seen. Strange, he had been walking next to her but a few seconds ago.

Cliff let loose a deep chuckle. "Who, Romeo?" he gestured ahead with his thumb. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

The Earthling in question had sprinted up to the young humanoid up front, before slowing down to casually keep pace. Either Roger didn't notice, or he didn't care as he made no indication of acknowledging Fayt's presence whatsoever. It was both sad and kind of pathetic really, but Roger still refused to talk to him and Fayt was desperate.

"Um… you… you look good today."

The Menodix actually stopped to shoot him a strange look. "But I look like this all the time!"

"Oh," he answered lamely and looked behind him for help. Mirage did encouraging shoo-ing actions with her hands, while Cliff cheekily formed a circle with his thumb and forefinger and put a finger through the hole. Fayt crimsoned and shot him a nasty stare, before composing himself and jogging forward to catch up with the boy, who hadn't even bothered to wait for him. Considering Roger was as direct as they came, Fayt decided to cut the crap and go straight to the point.

"Roger, I'm sorry."

A beat. Furry ears twitched ever so slightly, but the boy continued walking and never once looked back. Undeterred, Fayt intercepted him and blocked his path.

"I'm sorry!" he said more forcefully, hoping to convey every ounce of his sincerity, regret for his misjudgments and unwavering love, as he begged his boyfriend for forgiveness. "I'm sorry for what I did, for going behind your back and agreeing to a war against your people, for betraying your trust, for choosing Aquaria over you, for choosing _myself_ over you, for hurting you – and I'll willingly take that all back if I could; make up for my mistakes and actions, if I can so much as earn your forgiveness and trust again."

His voice shook, heavy with emotion; his eyes stung as he fought down tears of frustration and hopelessness. But Roger wasn't even listening.

"Please," Fayt whispered in one last desperate attempt to get through to him. "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it, whatever it takes. I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Roger, please!"

 _I love you._

A soft breeze blew past, carrying Fayt's apology and unsaid devotion along with it. It ruffled their hair and Roger's conviction. The Menodix's shoulders slumped in defeat and he let out a deep, weary sigh. His heart ached for the other and for the truth that he could never seem to run away from, no matter how hard he tried. It hurt whenever he thought about Fayt and their relationship, but it hurt more when he thought about how much he loved him and how thoroughly impossible it would be to let the noble swordsman go. He had told Nel yesterday that he wouldn't be able to forgive the blue haired teen for everything he had done and put him through, but it hurt to push Fayt away and it was so hard to keep this up.

"I… I'm not mad at ya."

His response actually made Fayt do a double take.

"What?"

"I'm not mad at ya," Roger repeated as he took a deep, shuddering breath. "... But why did ya lie?"

Fayt blinked, unsure. "Lie…?" And his heart clenched the moment he came face-to-face with Roger's tear-filled eyes when the younger looked up. The child was desperately fighting back tears, and Fayt wondered for how long Roger had been suppressing his inner turmoil and suffering.

"I o-overheard from C-Cliff 'n Mirage that… that being with s-someone like me is against the l-law in yer world," Roger hiccuped between his words; it hurt so much to speak. "Cuz I'm f-from an 'underdeveloped planet', you'd get inta t-trouble… so why?" Wide, pleading eyes that swam with so much sadness and confusion, gazed deep into troubled emerald. "Ya knew this. Ya knew it was only temporary. Ya never planned ta stay and ya never will. So why did ya lie ta me? Why did ya lie about yer feelings? Who… who are ya, Fayt?"

He gasped when he felt himself being lifted into a pair of strong arms, as if he weighed nothing. Fayt pulled his precious humanoid boy close and pressed their foreheads together; their noses bumped lightly and affectionately; gazes locked.

"Why?" he echoed his beloved's words. "Because I fell deeply and madly in love with a boy from across the galaxy; a boy whom I otherwise wouldn't have met if not for who I really was," he said in a low voice, hoarse with emotion. "And if given a chance to relive these past few crazy weeks on this crazy planet, I'd gladly do it again."

His words and the passionate way he said them caused Roger's heart to flutter pleasantly, his body and face heating up from the proximity and intensity of Fayt's stare. Hands traveled from his waist to the back of his thighs and butt, and Roger blushed from the intimate and public display of the swordsman's possessive behavior. All he could hear were the sounds of his own aroused pants, all he could feel was the gentle caress of Fayt's hot breath against his lips; and for a moment, he had forgotten how to breathe.

"I didn't lie, Roger," Fayt continued. "Yes, I knew about the regulations of the UP3. Yes, I knew that whatever I– whatever _we_ started couldn't and wouldn't last. And yes, I was wrong to drag you down with me; I was selfish – I _am_ selfish, and should've stopped this from escalating sooner. But…" and at this he held Roger tighter. "But, my feelings for you are true: I love you. _I love you._ And I'll keep saying it, for as many times as you wish to hear it, for as long as I can say it; I love you, Roger. And I would _never_ lie to you."

The Menodix's lower lip trembled from his confession. "I know ya didn't lie…"

A relieved smile crossed Fayt's lips. "Roger…"

"Ya just didn't tell the truth."

With a hard shove, Roger pushed the stunned Earthling away and jumped out of his arms. Their conversation was over; even Fayt could take a hint. And so, he watched with pain-filled eyes as the humanoid boy he so desperately desired, walked away from him and out of his reach.

At the back of the group and oblivious to the drama up front, Romeria's eyes narrowed beneath the veil when she saw the Menodix make a sharp right. Instead of continuing straight, he proceeded towards a pile of rubble from what appeared to be an old, dilapidated stone bridge.

"Nel, where in heaven's name is he going? The last I recall, we should be heading southwest towards Peterny."

The Aquarian in question hesitated. "I'm… not sure, your majesty."

The closer their party of seven approached the bridge, the clearer they could spot a pair of tall, dark figures standing conspicuously by the foliage; wary, impatient and out-of-place. The first of the two wore long regal robes of dark scarlet, beset with gold and precious gems that glittered under the sunlight. A magnificent crown adorned the gentleman's head, a pair of deep-set black eyes sat on a sharp, chiseled face framed elegantly by dark brown bangs, and the neatly trimmed goatee finished off the sovereign's fine features. The second individual was significantly younger with long, two-toned hair that framed his elegantly set features and reached his ankles. He wore an unusual purple military outfit that drew attention to his lean and toned physique, and had a katana strapped to his hip. The swordsman was as handsome as he was mysterious, radiating a dark and dangerous aura that inspired fear into whoever dared gaze into his crimson eyes.

The group stopped short as did the silent duo. Fayt, Cliff, Nel and Roger took in the sight of an all too familiar claw-gauntlet around the man's left arm, which effectively evoked a slew of memories that were less than pleasant. None were particularly enthused by the swordsman's presence to say the least.

"Arzei," Romeria stepped forward and greeted Airyglyph's King with a curtsy.

"Romeria," Arzei acknowledged in turn with a deep bow, before lifting his head to fix his eyes upon Aquaria's Queen with an uncharacteristic fondness. "You…" And the lovely, demure sight of the veil upon her crown momentarily took his breath away. "You look as beautiful as ever."

Romeria's expression hardened. "And you haven't changed a bit, I see."

Her biting statement pierced the King's heart and he winced from the cold and bitter treatment. "Perhaps I deserve that," he admitted with a tinge of regret in his voice. "I have wronged you and your people, as well as broken the years of trust we have built between us and our kingdoms. I only hope it is not too late to repair a friendship once strong."

Romeria simply shook her head. "Arzei, I cannot forgive you for the scars you have inflicted, but I will join you in arms alongside our Republican brothers, against this threat to our world."

"It would appear I have much to repent and prove to you," said Arzei sadly, disappointed but undeterred. "But at the very least, I can start here."

"And what in Apris' name is _he_ doing here?" Nel demanded all of a sudden, gesturing and glaring daggers at a half-amused, half-exasperated Glyphian swordsman standing a little ways from the king.

The man's presence and proximity unsettled her greatly, more so than the gravity of this miraculous three-way meeting. As much as she was mad at Cliff for lying to her, she hadn't forgotten how the Klausian had almost died to the very person standing less than 10 steps away from them. Besides, hadn't Fayt left him for dead on the Bequerel Mountain path? Hadn't he failed in his mission to capture Roger? That last thought prompted her to quickly seize said humanoid child and hide him behind her out of instinct. _You're_ _ **not**_ _taking him,_ she mentally seethed, eyes blazing and stance defensive, _you're not taking my only family. I won't let you._

Meanwhile, Fayt was thinking along the same lines, except that he felt a little more worried by the unexpected situation than visibly offended by it. 'What the hell is Albel doing here?' he thought in panic as he remembered his last face off with the Black Brigade captain and his close call with death. Fayt was no fool; that victory would have been Albel's if the guy hadn't passed out from exhaustion. In terms of speed, agility, power and combat finesse, Albel was the better fighter and arguably Airyglyph's ultimate killing machine; Fayt had every reason to be worried. That and he didn't like the weird looks the guy kept giving Roger as he strained to get a peek at the little Menodix playing hide-and-seek behind Nel's long legs. A possessive growl bubbled from Fayt's throat. He knew a rival when he saw one – and Albel Nox was the kind of _irritating_ challenger in those arcade simulation games he never asked for, yet would come back to haunt him over and over again and thwart his victory path, until he either wore himself out or ran out of credits to hit continue.

Behind Nel, Roger continued to sneak terrified and curious glances at the Glyphian swordsman, confused just like everyone else on his sudden appearance. He wasn't sure how Airyglyph's military operated, but he knew for a fact that captains of military outfits did not normally abandon their posts and serve as escorts, King or no. It was crazy to even think this, but…. had Albel been demoted? What exactly happened between that time at the Kirlsa Training Facility and now? And why was he looking at him like that? Like he had words on his face that required deep concentration to read and decipher, because that's what Albel was doing: the man was studying him so intently, it made Roger blush and duck his head shyly. Unknowingly, that reaction caused a slight smirk to tug at the wicked one's lips. _So, the little fool still remembers me,_ thought Albel with a growing sense of pride and the tiniest bit of hope, only to pause with a deep, unsettled frown as he pondered where that last emotion had come from. Humph, his time in the dungeons and the long journey across Gaitt on foot must have worn him out.

"I could say the same for you, Lady Nel," answered the King, though his demeanor revealed that he was unappreciative of the Aquarian's disrespectful tone. "The missive stated that this would be a discussion between our foreign visitors and ourselves. Their presence – he gestured at Fayt, Cliff, Mirage and Maria – I understand, but yours…" he trailed off in a manner that clearly suggested his skepticism.

"Nel Zelpher is here as my personal aid and escort," Romeria rushed to defend her high commander. "I for one do not see a problem with her attendance."

"Likewise, Albel Nox has willingly made this journey with me out of personal obligation," Arzei countered with unwavering eyes. "I trust no other with my life."

The two sides stared each other down in silent animosity: Airyglyph's King and Aquaria's Queen challenged each other's authority and better judgement through their eyes, while Albel and Nel continued to glare daggers at each other. The air sparked with unresolved tension, as the others looked between both parties helplessly, awkwardly. This wasn't good; not one foot into the Lost City and the two rulers were already in disagreement. Of course, ever the innocent optimist, the youngest member of their ragtag group didn't even notice this and clapped his hands impatiently.

"Great! Now that everyone's happy, let's get goin'!" He pushed past the stunned King and headed straight for the pile of rubble. "It ain't polite ta keep pops waitin'. He'll get all mad and grumpy like how he gets when he's got a nasty toothache. And trust me, y'all don't wanna know what he did ta the dentist the moment we convinced him ta get it checked."

The group of eight stared at him blankly. What was the point of that story again? And was Roger digging through _bushes_? There was nothing here but debris, rocks and more rocks. They felt like they lost the main objective of this mission altogether – and the longer Roger searched for god-knows-what, the thinner a certain Glyphian swordsman's patience ran. True to Arzei's words, Albel _had_ agreed to follow and protect his king out of his own free will; he still didn't know _why_ or _what_ exactly prompted him to make that decision, but that thought made him angry, the wretched Crimson Blade spy made him angry, Fayt's stupid face made him angry, and everyone who had eyes would know that there wasn't a single city within a 10 meter radius, much less a bloody building.

"Worm, I did _not_ waste my time coming all this way to wait around a pathetic broken bridge," Albel snapped dangerously, speaking up for the first time since their arrival. "Either explain yourself, or I'll let my blade do the talking for you."

"You will do no such thing!" Nel snarled and stepped towards him.

Albel shot her a patronizing smirk. "Humph, what's the matter, maggot? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't even want me here."

"No, I want you dead."

"Then I suggest you get in line."

"Albel! / Nel!"

Arzei and Romeria gazed at them in disapproval and they looked away. Nel clenched her fists, while Albel's fingers twitched over the hilt of his katana. Now wasn't the time for petty squabbling, fine… but god was it hard.

"Are ya guys done?" Roger interrupted impatiently, hands on his hips, expression exasperated and a pout on his lips. Geez, if those two couldn't even be civil for two seconds, he didn't _want_ to think about their upcoming conference in a closed room environment. "Anyway, no one's wasted their time. We're already here."

And without further ado, the Menodix pulled back the leaves of a nearby bush to reveal a stone plate with what appeared to be a shape of a handprint carved into its smooth surface. Strange markings surrounded the handprint, the elusive strokes of an ancient tongue carved deep into old stone.

"What's that?" Fayt whispered to Nel, who had moved to stand next to him in order to place as much distance between herself and the Glyphian swordsman as possible.

"The old language of Aquor," she explained, before making a sweeping gesture at the empty scene before them; vast, never-ending forests and clear open skies. "Remember the three enchanted artifacts Roger talked about? They hailed from that very kingdom, from a place our people know only from old history books and fairytales. A hundred years ago, all of this – all the kingdoms, cities, towns and villages you've seen and visited on your journey – once made up the great and powerful Kingdom of Aquor. And the shining jewel of Aquor, the crown capital itself, was none other than Surferio, the great city of the sun."

"Wait a minute," Fayt interrupted, confused. "Isn't that the name of Roger's village?"

"His village is just _one part_ of the original Surferio, so the humanoids simply decided to retain its name in memory of its legacy." Nel shrugged. "The rest of it was lost to war and time."

"What happened to it?" Cliff asked, now wholly intrigued.

"No one knows. After Aquor fell to Greeton and split into the three kingdoms, Surferio disappeared. Some say it sank beneath the waves, some believe it only existed in people's imagination; that's why we call it the _Lost City_. It doesn't exist– _Roger!_ " And Nel screamed when she saw Roger raise his axe to an open palm.

Protective instincts kicking in, Fayt dashed towards the young humanoid to stop him, but froze when he felt the strong grip of a claw grab his shoulder and dig threateningly into the material of his tunic.

"Fool, do you not have eyes?" Albel released him and indicated at the bridge with a nod of his head. "Look."

The entire group watched as Roger brought the blade to his palm, hesitated, then pressed the edge down against his flesh in a quick and clean slice. The skin tore and bright red blood oozed out the wound in rivulets. Roger winced and breathed through his nose sharply, but the sudden and distinctive scent of his own blood gave him pause and made him a little queasy in the stomach. But it was the only way, so he turned his hand and pressed the bloodied palm against the stone handprint. Immediately, his blood flowed through the cracks and seeped into the scriptures, filling the strange symbols with an ominous red. They pulsed to life in a brilliant crimson glow, like a heartbeat of the land, before the earth trembled beneath their feet and they watched, mesmerized as the bridge repaired itself before their very eyes. Rubble and solid stone flew up, melded together and slotted into place, until soon enough, they were greeted by a shimmering white stone bridge, impressive in its size and splendor. The bridge extended across a deep gorge and into the forest beyond, where a glowing orb of light floated at its entrance, seemingly beckoning its new visitors with its soft yet vibrant array of colour.

The group gaped at the magical spectacle, but the one person who felt the most astounded was Nel – and with good reason. Since her father died and Aznor Huxley welcomed her into his quaint little village by the steppes, she had always thought that Surferio was nothing more than a humble home within a humble land. It would appear that they had all misjudged the meeting venue, as well as underestimated the nature and capacity of their humanoid counterparts.

'So, when the Sanmite Republic practiced their isolation policy, they meant here,' Nel realised. But _what_ exactly was "here", and where were they heading to exactly? And then, it suddenly occurred to everyone present that they were about to find out.

Roger withdrew his hand and performed a quick healing spell. At their stupefied reactions, he winked and shot the party a playful smirk.

"What, did ya honestly think that the _Lost City_ was just a village by the lake?"

* * *

They crossed the bridge and stepped into the forest, and the moment the last person did so, the bridge crumbled once more. The rocks beneath the island forestry they stood upon began to fade; the illusion was gone and when Fayt leaned over the edge, he could see nothing but the rushing waters of the river beneath; make out the roar and rumble of distant waterfalls. The ground they stood on was no continent, but a large floating island.

"Ya can see across ta the other side," Roger pointed at the area they had stood but a few minutes ago, at the Irisa Fields and Castle Aquaria in the distance shrouded by a thin layer of mist. "But they can't see us, not unless they've got Aquor blood running through their veins."

"Extraordinary," Maria whispered to herself as she scanned the area with her device. "I'm getting extremely high energy signatures – much more than the previous two OPAs." She frowned thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, Marietta picked up small traces of these very readings on our way to your location."

"From _that_ kind of altitude? That's crazy!" Cliff shook his head in disbelief. "Whatever's emitting that sheer amount of energy shouldn't even _be_ in an underdeveloped planet at all."

"Those were my thoughts exactly."

"What do you think it could be?" asked Mirage.

"I've no idea," Maria replied with a shrug. "But whatever it is, we're standing right on top of it."

Suddenly, the sound of rushing footsteps, metal and rustling leaves pierced through the quiet and serene woods. A pair of guards burst through the clearing, weapons raised, and by the look of their triangular ears and long tails, they appeared to be Fellpool.

"Halt! Who dares trespass into Sanmite terri– _y-your highness!_ " The guards stuttered and immediately went down on their knees before the stunned human king and queen. Romeria and Arzei gazed at them helplessly, but before they could formulate a response, Roger stepped forward to address the two guards.

"Tell pops and the ministers that the representatives are here," he gestured at his companions with a jerk of his thumb. "I'll bring 'em over. Just open the gates."

"Yes, sir!"

It was strange to see a little boy command two intimidating soldiers like that and it left Fayt feeling both amused and impressed at the same time. The Menodix really hadn't been exaggerating when he claimed he was 'very important' back at Arias. He supposed being the Prime Minister's only child and son from a famed city that apparently existed only in legends, greatly contributed to his status.

The guards quickly walked right up to the glowing orb and touched its smooth surface. In a quiet whirr and swirl of sparkling colour, the orb flew up; streaks of light danced beneath it, before the ground trembled and a staircase appeared next to it, descending underground. The Fellpool zipped down the steps and disappeared from sight. Roger motioned the group over with a wave.

"C'mon, it's safe; I promise!"

Nel and Albel moved in front of their charges respectively.

"Allow me, your majesty."

They descended first, followed closely by Arzei and Romeria. Fayt, Maria, Cliff and Mirage made up the rear. The grand staircase stretched deep beneath the earth; but the darkness the group expected from being underground never once came. In fact, the place was bathed in an ethereal light and possessed the grandeur and shimmering beauty that could rival that of Aquois. Instead of rocks and dirt, there were clouds and faerie dust; instead of darkness and shadows, they found themselves immersed in a sparkling city – sumptuous in colour, bountiful with life under the rays of a never-ending sun.

The further they walked, the more they realised that Surferio had no ground: the entire kingdom was made up of hundreds of floating islands and platforms, each unit carrying its own establishment – from general stores to armorers and outfitters, taverns to solitary islands of flora and fauna. Each island and platform had at least one dock, and the main mode of transport other than walking, appeared to be boats that travelled on air instead of water. Faeries, witches and other curious woodland creatures popped their heads out from behind buildings and tall trees to get a glimpse of their new human visitors. A few Featherfolkian flying overhead whispered and chatted excitedly amongst themselves. Humanoid families living on a few nearby islands stepped out of their homes to stare. The amount of attention, coupled with this new, fantastical environment made Fayt feel a little self-conscious. Roger's world was a brilliant place and nothing at all like what he had expected. The city's magnificent architecture, charming blend of nature and innovation, as well as its pure and sacred beauty made it look like a page straight out of a storybook; and when Fayt peered over the edge of the stone railings to seek out an end to the massive drop, he could barely make out the sparkling surface of clear waters and mermaids bathing under giant waterfalls, their high pitch tittering and songs carrying high into the air and filling the magical kingdom with allure and laughter.

"It's… it's beautiful," Maria whispered, at a loss for words, completely taken by her enchanting surroundings. In all her years transversing the galaxy and visiting distant planets, never had she seen anything that could hold a candle to Surferio's purity. There was just something so innocent and magical about the place and, as cheesy and it might sound, it almost made her feel like a little girl again.

"It truly is."

She jumped at the voice and turned around to meet Nel's eyes. The Aquarian's gaze was soft, wistful; her smile peaceful, as she took in the precious sight of the renowned Lost City, humbled by its majesty and the privilege of being able to see it with her own two eyes.

"As a little girl, I always believed in the Lost City of Surferio. But the war happened; my father died; and I no longer had the time for fairytales… until I met Roger." She smiled fondly at the memory. "He said that Surferio was as real as one wanted it to be, that it was the city of hope and it would appear to you the moment you needed it most." And at this she chuckled. "I suppose I never really stopped believing."

"Faith is a strong thing," said Maria. "It is seeing light with your heart when all your eyes see is darkness."

Nel hummed. "Indeed, for only in darkness can you see the stars."

They reached the base of the stairs and onto a wide platform with six docks on either side. It appeared to be some sort of arrival/departure port, with boat timings of specific vessels displayed on a large signboard overhead. Currently, only one boat was parked at the docks – and it was actually no ordinary boat, but a magnificent ship with large sails, retractable gliders at its sides and at certain intervals, the ship's surface would gleam gold accompanied by short strings of music. In front of the ship stood Aznor Huxley himself, posture tall and confident, a wide grin on his face. He waved his guests over.

"You made it!" His eyes passed over Romeria, Arzei, Cliff, Mirage, Maria and lingered slightly longer on Fayt. "I hope the trip wasn't too tiring?"

Fayt shook his head. "Not at all, sir. And if you don't mind me saying this, your city's beautiful."

Aznor threw back his head in a hearty laugh. "A compliment from our savior from the stars! Now, why wouldn't I accept it?" Then with a smirk and twinkle in his eyes, he turned and gestured at the view all around them with a grand flourish of his hand. "Welcome, my friends, to Surferio!"

And with that, he ushered them onto the ship, dealing orders to the crew as he passed. Once everyone was settled comfortably, they took off; large sails billowing behind them as they flew through the air and straight towards the city's center. A large floating island with a giant tree stood at the heart of Surferio, its branches glowing and dispersing sparkling green light into the air around them and down towards the crashing waterfalls beneath. The tree appeared to pulse with life; but as they drew closer, they realised that it wasn't actually a giant tree, but a beautiful castle elegantly entwined with its bark and branches. Stain glass windows adorned the face of the castle, each one depicting a certain point of Aquor's history prior to its fall. Romeria couldn't help but comment on that.

"My dear Aznor, to think that all this time, you've kept this a secret from us and the world."

"I had to, Romeria," the Menodix replied regretfully. "Aquaria and Airyglyph were at war. We would have lost everything. I mean no offense."

"I understand," she said as she took in her surroundings. "Indeed, the temptation is great. Surferio is rich with history, enchantment, power and life. I do not deny the possibility of this magical kingdom crumbling once more, if it fell into the wrong hands."

"Aznor, if I may ask, what keeps this city afloat?" interrupted Arzei curiously. "What technology does the Sanmite Republic own?"

"Ah," Arzei shook his head with a smile, "I wouldn't say 'technology' exactly; that suggests innovation. In truth, Surferio isn't powered by science or magic… but life." He pointed at the castle up ahead, specifically at its tips that radiated the mysterious green energy. "The city gets its power from Gaitt's center, otherwise known as Castle Aquor; in fact, this _entire_ continent is alive because of its power – and the closer you are to the heart of Gaitt, the more prosperous your land is. Life flows through the air and into the waters; and these rivers flow throughout Gaitt, from the lakes of Aquaria to the icy mountains of Airyglyph; it connects us."

"So that's why Aquaria is so blessed," Nel realised as understanding slowly dawned upon her. "We're the closest kingdom to Surferio."

Aznor nodded. "That is a fact, yes."

"And leave Airyglyph with nothing, save rot in a frozen wasteland?" Albel snapped bitterly.

"Albel, you will hold your tongue–"

"That's quite alright, Arzei," said Aznor, before turning to face the young swordsman with knowing eyes. "I wouldn't say Airyglyph had nothing; after all, your region has the dragons' protection and they're the most powerful creatures in all of Gaitt. Moreover – his gaze dropped to the sword strapped to the Glyphian's hip – there has to be a reason the _Crimson Scourge_ chose you as its wielder, son of Glou."

Albel backed away instantly, stance defensive and glare set in place. "What do you know about my father?"

"Enough to see the resemblance," he answered with a knowing chuckle. "Glou Nox was a noble and righteous man, and was as powerful as he was kind. But he only became the great figure we all know and revere today after he met your mother and had you. Even the Marquis of dragons respected him." Aznor's eyes shone perceptively. "Do you have someone you wish to protect?"

"Bah! Enough with your senseless prattle, old man." Albel waved him off and stomped away. "Get me off this stupid ship, so we can hurry up and get this pointless meeting over and done with."

As the group watched him go with wide eyes, Arzei shook his head with a deep, regrettable sigh.

"You have to pardon Albel's character. He's an incredible fighter and a loyal knight, but he's… difficult."

"No worries, Arzei."

Unbeknownst to the rest, Roger's eyes followed the retreating swordsman, curious and intrigued. _The Crimson Scourge chose him?_ That very sword was the most volatile and destructive force amongst the three enchanted artifacts, which reputably had a life and mind of its own. Not only did it choose its wielder, it also consumed them. One not only had to be mentally strong to resist its temptations, but also inherently good and steadfast in order to unlock the weapon's full potential. _And Albel's that person_ , Roger thought in both surprise and awe as he recalled the day the Glyphian saved his life, _there's more ta him..._

The realization brought a smile to his lips, and he failed to notice a certain blue haired swordsman look on in jealousy. Fayt's eyes darted between Albel and Roger, panic and hurt bubbling in his chest. He knew it; had called it since that day at the Kirlsa Training Facility. Roger _did_ harbor some feelings towards the Black Brigade Captain, and starting a relationship together hadn't exactly made them go away. That soft, adoring expression – one that used to be reserved exclusively for him – and lovely smile on his face said it all; and he'd be damned if he lost the boy he loved to a murdering psychopath. But Roger was still mad at him and Fayt didn't know what more he could do to earn his boyfriend's forgiveness. Actually, could they still be considered a couple after everything that had happened? He highly doubted it, what with the cold turn their relationship took and the thought made him feel even more disheartened than before. Eventually, he'd leave this planet and all the memories they made together, behind. He was losing Roger in more ways than one.

"Anyway," Aznor continued. "Surferio is what you see before you because of the Sacred Orb: an enchanted artifact passed down from ruler to ruler, since the dawn of time and is rumored to be the very soul that not only birthed the ancient kingdom of Aquor, but also all of Gaitt and Greeton. It's the land's very essence of life."

"And judging by how that thing keeps spewing out fairy dust, I'm guessing it's being housed in Castle Aquor," said Cliff, pointing at the very structure as their ship passed the island by.

"In a sense, yes. It was always there and we never moved it. We can't."

Fayt raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Cuz Surferio would fall and all of Gaitt would die," Roger explained solemnly. "The moment the Sacred Orb is moved from its pedestal, bad things will happen. That's how Aquor fell in the first place: Greeton tried ta steal it, the kingdom split inta three, and Surferio sank beneath the waves."

"Of course, when our ancestors uncovered this place, they managed to restore most of the city to its former glory. But alas – Aznor gestured at the numerous floating isles – this is best we humanoids can do; Surferio cannot return to the surface, not unless Aquor's blood descendants reclaim the throne and unite the land once more." At this, he spared a quick glance at Arzei and Romeria, who had conveniently chosen that moment to find the ship's deck very interesting. He closed his eyes with a sigh. "But that was centuries ago. Things change."

The ship docked at the nearest port and the party climbed out with Aznor in the lead. Roger helped tie the masts and was about to disembark the vessel, when his father's commanding voice stopped him.

"Son, take the ship and return to the village. I'll see you when this entire ordeal is over."

"W-Whaddaya mean?!" He sputtered in outrage. "I should be part of this meetin' too! I brought 'em here and–"

"Which I'm grateful for, thank you, Roger," Aznor interjected, holding up his hand in finality. "But this meeting doesn't concern you. I believe you've helped enough."

"But–"

"Roger, please. For once, just _listen_ to me!" He raised his voice, but his expression was full of worry. The events of the war were still fresh in his mind. There was no way he was going to make the same mistake twice. "Go home."

There was a pregnant pause. All eyes were focused on father and son and their silent battle of egos. However, instead of stubbornly retaliating like most of them expected, Roger simply related with a loud sigh. His escape from the village a month ago and the resulting consequences continued to haunt him. Although every fiber in his being screamed at him to assert his rights, he understood where his father was coming from and gave in.

"Ok, pops. But can I at least find my friends?" he pleaded with big, hopeful eyes. "Melt and Dribe said they'd be here and I haven't seen 'em in forever!"

"... Very well. Stay safe."

"Yessir!"

And after giving Nel a goodbye kiss on the cheek and raising the sails, the child went speeding off in the direction of the city square. Aznor watched him go until his son's ship was nothing but a speck in the distance, before turning to address his guests.

"My apologies for that. This way please. The Sacred Hall is just a little ways ahead."

And with a turn and quick motion of his finger, the group followed the Prime Minister towards a towering, circular building made entirely out of stone. Ruins were carved deep into its surface and in comparison to the rest of Surferio's vibrant splendor, this particular building looked downright intimidating, ominous even, as it loomed threateningly overhead. Fayt gulped and took a cautious step back, but paused when he felt eyes on him. Quickly turning his head, he found himself victim to Albel's cruel, mocking smirk; the kind that goaded him and laughed at his inadequacy at the same time. He shot the Glyphian a death glare; Albel's smirk widened; and Fayt stomped towards the towering stone doors if only to prove a point.

"So, how do we get in?" he asked impatiently, scrutinizing for a knob, indent or handle.

"Not so fast, Leingod," replied Aznor, as he stepped forward to stand before a carving depicting a large celestial tree. Its roots extended down and branched out into three hand plates with each plate surrounded by the same symbols they had seen at the bridge.

"This is the Sacred Hall of Surferio. It's where all the important discussions took place between Aquor's leaders centuries ago. Policies, laws, military strategies – you name it! But its doors haven't been opened since." And at this, the Menodix slit his palm with one of his axes and placed it upon the hand plate, before shooting Romeria and Arzei a meaningful stare. "Until now."

Not needing to be told twice, Aquaria and Airyglyph's rulers stepped forward. Simultaneously, each raised their hands, palms up, as they motioned expectantly at their respective escorts with their fingers.

"Nel."

"Albel."

Silently without question, Nel slid one of her daggers into the Queen's waiting hand, while Albel handed the King his spare katana. Both winced as the blades sliced open tender flesh, momentarily horrified by the sight of their own blood and what they had just done, yet recognized a duty and promise forged through blood. Romeria and Arzei spared each other a quick, unsure glance, before they followed the Prime Minister's example and placed their palms upon the remaining two hand plates. Immediately, the ruins flowed a bright red; the building pulsed to life; and with a loud groan, the stone doors opened, beckoning its new visitors into the shadows and a place that hadn't seen the light of day for over a century.

"Come on, the other ministers will join us shortly," said Aznor, as he pulled away to step foot into the dimly lit chamber. Torches, which lined the walls, lit up as he walked. Maria jogged after him.

"I beg your pardon," she interrupted with a frown, "but 'other ministers'?"

"Of course, my dear." Aznor whirled around to shoot the blue haired girl an incredulous stare. "The Sanmite Republic is a democracy. I may be the Prime Minister, but I never make decisions without involving my cabinet."

* * *

The conference chamber was located at the center of the Sacred Hall and had taken quite some time to get there after navigating the convoluted twists and turns of the ancient building's passageways. A large circular stone table made up the room's centerpiece along with exactly eight stone benches. The Prime Minister motioned for them to take a seat. On one end, Maria and Fayt took up a seat each, while Mirage and Cliff stood guard behind them. On the other end sat Romeria and Arzei; Nel stood dutifully behind her Queen, while Albel had taken to casually leaning against a wall a short distance away. Aznor sat down as well next to three empty seats.

Romeria lifted her veil and her gaze swept across the room. "Your ministers are late, Aznor," she pointed out, to which the Menodix chuckled.

"Oh, they're on their way," he leaned back and casually propped his arms behind his head. "Any second now…"

As if on cue, the chamber doors slammed open and a rush of wind surged towards the party gathered. The miniature cyclone headed straight for the empty seat next to the Prime Minister and out of the current popped a very cocky, very familiar Fellpool.

"I'm sure you're all familiar with Malroy, my Minister of Defense," Aznor introduced.

The group nodded and Malroy returned the acknowledgement with a curt wave of greeting, before his eyes landed on Cliff and he smirked. "Hey, remember me?"

Cliff bristled at the mocking tone and Malroy laughed. However, before he could even think of giving the overgrown pussycat a punch to the face, the temperature of the room suddenly dipped and a swirl of icy waters gathered at the seat next to Malroy. A fox lady materialized out of the water, her nine white tails fanning out elegantly behind her. Long, straight cut black bangs framed her small and sharp face, and a pair of glasses sat precariously on her nose. With an upturned nose and raised chin, she regarded the group in a manner that could only be described as unimpressed. Fayt shifted nervously under her scrutiny. She reminded him of his Aunt Keiko, who would loom dangerously over his shoulder every time he did his homework and smack him with a book if he ever dozed off or tried to escape.

"I would like you to meet Nerissa, my Minister Of Justice."

"Charmed," she deadpanned with a sniff, before turning to address Aznor. "Has Roger returned to the village?"

"No, he went to look for your son and Melt," he replied. "You know the boys. They're probably busy with their 'Real Man' contests as usual."

"Humph, Dribe needs them as far as I'm concerned. That boy's afraid of his own shadow! I don't know what to do with him."

Someone giggled.

"My, my… well isn't this a lively bunch?"

An old Bunnyman hobbled into the chamber, his cane making rhythmic tap-tapping noises against the ground as he walked. The humanoid was small and slightly hunched from age; his long, floppy bunny ears reached the ground, as did his snowy-white beard and bushy eyebrows, which he had grown out over the decades. The eyebrows were so long and thick, they completely covered his eyes, and his beard bobbed every time he spoke like he had no mouth. It was comical in an endearing way.

"Ah, Elder Roland, my Minister of Foreign Affairs! How nice of you to join us," Aznor welcomed the oldest member of his team and possibly in all of Sanmite Republic. "I hope the journey over was manageable?"

"Oh, you know me, sir." He tapped the ground with his cane and the earth shifted beneath his feet to transport him straight to his seat. "Still fit as a fiddle!"

The rest of the group watched the exchange between the Republic leaders in fascination. Apart from being humanoids with very distinct characteristics, it appeared each minister had the ability to command a certain element. Apart from the elementalists they had witnessed on the battlefield, the only humanoids who had full control of their specific element were Aznor and Malroy. Now, they were privy to Nerissa and Roland's skills as well. Fayt couldn't help but wonder if it had anything to do with status and title, or was it the other way around whereby possessing such abilities led to eventual leadership. If that was so, Roger would most likely join the cabinet one day or even take over his father, what with his natural command over fire.

"Now that we're all present," Aznor looked to his guests, "Your majesty, your highness; ministers; and our guests from the stars. It is my honor and privilege to declare this historical meeting between our three kingdoms, open."

A loud 'Boom!' echoed about the conference hall and the stone slab in the middle of the table flipped over to reveal a 3D map of the whole of Gaitt. Miniature rocky mountains and hilltops protruded from the base; thin slivers of water ran between the land in representation of rivers; towns, villages and cities were marked out; and the structures of Castle Airyglyph, Castle Aquaria and Castle Aquor stood tall and proud at their respective locations. There was movement within the map and if one looked closely, one would be able to make out tiny dots in representation of people. Fayt, Maria, Cliff and Mirage's jaws dropped. This was amazing, not to mention entirely unexpected. Call it science or magic, but this level of technology was comparable to A.D 2452, albeit in its primitive stage. Meanwhile, Arzei, Romeria and Nel were at a loss for words. _Incredible._ They could see everything that was happening throughout the continent, the population count and distribution, the condition of their lands – _everything._ Even Albel had cracked one eye open to stare.

"Is this real time?" Maria asked, reaching out to touch the objects. They disintegrated upon contact with her skin and reappeared at their rightful positions.

"Yes," Nerissa pushed up her glasses. "This enchanted map was used by the ancient kingdom and shows the exact movements of Gaitt's people and any environmental changes. In a sense, whoever sees this will roughly know who is where and what they're doing."

Malroy chuckled. "Pretty useful, huh? Honestly, this would've saved us the hassle when planning wartime strategies."

"Of course, this is the first time any of us are seeing this," Elder Roland piped up. "After all, we were never granted access to these halls until the arrival of the King and Queen."

"Why is that?" asked Arzei with a curious tilt of his head.

"Because Surferio only recognizes the blood of its descendants." Elder Roland indicated at the ruins around them with his cane. "In the beginning, Aquor consisted of 2 races living side-by-side in harmony: humans and humanoids. However, when the kingdom fell after the war, its people became divided in ideologies. The humans who believed in theocracy and the teachings of Apris formed Aquaria; those who supported stratocracy and formed a kinship with dragons became Airyglyph; and the humanoids formed a democratic system otherwise known as the Sanmite Republic. When you, Aznor and her majesty gave your blood to these walls, the city recognized you. Currently, the three of you are the last descendants hailing directly from Aquor's roots."

Arzei and Romeria looked down at their hands and chose to remain silent. The former lifted his gaze in hopes of catching the Queen's eye, but she avoided his stare and the coldness of her rejection hurt him more than he cared to admit.

"I think we have been kept waiting long enough," Romeria interrupted and fixed her piercing gaze directly at a nervous Fayt. "Now, Leingod, if you please."

All eyes turned to him. _Alright, Fayt. Showtime._ And with a gulp and a deep breath, Fayt launched into his tale from the beginning. He talked about his vacation on Hyda IV and how he got separated from his family when the Vendeeni attacked. Of course, he hadn't known he was the cause of the attack at that time, but he managed to escape with the help of Cliff and Mirage. A mishap during their escape left them stranded on Elicoor II, which led up to the events of their capture in Airyglyph, subsequent cooperation with Aquaria, and their involvement in the war between the three kingdoms. Maria, Cliff and Mirage helped fill in a few details along the way, such as the nature of their mission to retrieve him, what Quark stood for, Robert Leingod's role in all this, as well as Fayt and Maria's true identities. While everything proved a tough pill to swallow, much less believe, a quick demonstration of Maria's alteration abilities were enough to convince the six leaders otherwise.

Throughout the discussion, Fayt couldn't help but feel that Roger should be here, to hear all of this and _know_ him for who and what he was. Maybe that way, the boy would finally understand and learn to see and accept him in a different light. He couldn't undo what had been done, couldn't bring Ameena and Dion back to life or take back the lie he started in Arias when he first met and fell in love with Roger, but he could move forward and try to make things right. He just wished Roger could see that. It didn't matter if the boy no longer loved him; Fayt just didn't want to leave knowing that Roger hated him.

"Alright, so we can't give him up to the Vendeeni and we don't have the military capabilities to meet them head-on," Malroy summarised as he ticked off the main points with his fingers. "Now what? Unless we come up with a plan, our world is doomed."

Arzei considered the situation solemnly. "Whatever the case, we do not have the strength to face this new enemy – not alone, at least."

"So, you'll agree to our proposal?" said Romeria, who waited anxiously on the King's answer alongside Aznor.

"We have no choice," he concluded. "Our military forces also sustained terrible losses in that recent attack. Out of the three brigades of Airyglyph, only the Storm Brigade still has a captain. Woltar is the only one left, but he is far too old to fight."

At his position furthest from the group, Albel winced at that indirect slight to his ego and mentally cursed Arzei for suggesting his loss of status. That reveal inadvertently resulted in 10 pairs of eyes turning to regard him questionably, and Albel shot them a murderous death glare enough to silence any possible comments or queries that threatened to spill from their lips.

"Still, I don't see why we can't just hand these outsiders over to the enemy," Arzei continued. "Wouldn't it be best for all of us?"

"That might've been the case before, but Leingod's powers saved me and my son, without whom Surferio would surely suffer without our lineage. Giving up Leingod is no longer an option," replied Aznor.

"Aznor, you are speaking out of sentiment," Arzei argued. "Think about your people, think about the consequences. We cannot afford to exhaust our strength in another war."

"We aren't asking you to, Your Majesty," Maria interjected calmly. "All we ask is for your help to provide some form of distraction on the ground, so the four of us can slip past the Vendeeni undetected. If this plan succeeds, we'd be out of your hair and we promise to never return."

Arzei raised an eyebrow. "And if it fails?"

"It will not," Romeria answered confidently. "Not unless we work together. With our runological weapons, Sanmite's powers and your air dragons, I believe we would be able to achieve what Leingod and his companions are asking for."

"What you're asking for is to place innocent people's lives at stake for the sake of your own." Arzei pondered the suggestion and shook his head. "My deepest apologies, my friends, but I cannot do what you ask of me."

Nel suddenly slammed her hand on the table as she fixed her hard gaze upon the King. "Why?! So you can continue to uphold your nation's pride? You agreed to Her Majesty and the Prime Minister's proposal, you came all this way in an act of diplomacy – and now you're going back on your word?!"

The normally calm and levelheaded Aquarian's outburst shocked all those present, especially Cliff who watched her in awe and newfound appreciation. Hope and a creeping sense of affection welled up in his chest. Nel was defending them. Despite everything that had happened, she still trusted and cared about them, about him. At least, that's what he wanted to believe.

Before Nel could take another step closer, Albel drew his sword and stood protectively in front of Arzei. The Crimson Scourge glowed an eerie red and reverberated with power. She took a nervous step back.

"Watch yourself, worm," Albel raised his weapon threateningly with narrowed eyes. "I do not care for the current situation or what fate befalls these outsiders, nor have I the patience to deal with the idle prattle of foolish politicians deliberating the state of their kingdoms. But question the King and I'll gladly carve that tongue out of your mouth!"

"Your King is a coward!"

"Your Queen is a fool!"

" _ENOUGH!_ " Aznor boomed and large thorns sprouted from the ground, effectively separating the arguing duo.

Nel clicked her tongue in annoyance and Albel growled, retreating to resume his position against the wall and as far away from the group as possible. The other ministers lowered their heads and chose not to get involved; Fayt and gang shifted about awkwardly. Good lord, it would take a miracle for the three sides to come together in peace.

Romeria cleared her throat in shame. "Please forgive my Commander's aggression. She's seen and been through enough in the last 24 hours."

"Then you understand my reservations," said Arzei sadly. "Airyglyph cannot afford to lose anymore of its soldiers to senseless slaughter. As King, my people come first. You should understand this better than anyone, Aznor, Romeria."

Said leaders lowered their gazes as they considered the weight of Arzei's words. Airyglyph's King spoke the truth, but could they be so heartless as to leave those who had helped them in one way or another, to the wolves? Meanwhile, Fayt and Maria's hopes began to fade. It would appear that the three leaders were not as easily convinced as they had once thought.

"May I suggest an intermission?" Elder Roland spoke up all of a sudden. "A time of repose to gather our thoughts. It's been a long day and the sun is fast setting. Our guests are more than welcome to stay the night. We can continue this discussion tomorrow."

"... Very well," Arzei agreed and raised his head to lock eyes with Fayt across the table. "But before we adjourn this meeting, I have a question, Fayt Leingod."

The swordsman blinked in surprise. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"That brilliant light I saw from my castle, the one that destroyed the enemy's ship… was it you?"

Fayt hesitated, still not quite able to come to terms with the discovery of his powers; but the expectant eyes of all six leaders, as well as Nel and Albel's pressured him for answers and he decided to go with the truth.

"To be honest, Your Excellency, I don't remember." He clenched and unclenched his hands, as he struggled to fish whatever memory he could from the inky blackness. "All I remember is rushing to Roger, to get to him in time, to _save_ him – and then, nothing."

Aznor frowned as he tried to understand. "So, all you ever wanted… was to protect my son?"

"The kid's powers are affected by his emotions, like when he's stressed or extremely upset. Kind of like Maria's when she was put in a life or death situation," Cliff explained with his arms crossed. "Still, they never actually fully manifested before, until that incident."

"And why is that?" asked Arzei.

"Well," Mirage bit her lip and glanced at Maria hesitantly, "as strange as this might sound, we believe that the boy could have triggered Fayt's destructive capabilities."

"Don't be absurd!" Nel growled protectively. "Roger has nothing to do with this. He's just a boy!"

"... Humph, I beg to differ."

All conversation screeched to a halt the moment the Glyphian swordsman decided to speak up. Albel pushed himself off the wall and approached the stone table in long, even strides. He paused, deliberating his actions; and then to everyone's surprise, he removed his gauntlet. The intimidating metal appendage clattered onto the floor and then, Albel proceeded to unwind the roll of bandages around his left arm. Those too fell and joined the gauntlet on the ground. And instead of the gruesome sight and horrid stench of a rotting arm, a perfectly normal one stood in its place, complete with the mark of the dragons. Arzei stared at the healed appendage in complete shock. Like the rest of Airyglyph, everyone knew that Glou's son had failed the "Ascension of the Flame" ceremony and was cursed for life. This was the first time he was seeing this.

"Albel, your arm… the curse has been lifted?" Arzei whispered in disbelief.

"Curse? What curse?" Cliff indicated at the broody swordsman. "He's still here."

Albel chose to ignore the blonde's obvious jab on his person in favor of explaining himself.

"When I was a young boy, I was cursed by the Marquis of Dragons; my flesh would never heal, my pain would never cease. Every day was a living nightmare, every moment an excruciating agony… but everything changed when I met that little fool in Peterny." A flash of emotion entered his vermillion eyes at the memory. "Word had gotten out that a humanoid escaped from Surferio and I went to hunt him down, but an unfortunate accident occurred. The fool didn't even know who I was and healed me with his powers. He left a rather – and at this Albel smirked suggestively – inebriating impression on me."

Fayt's eyes narrowed in displeasure at Albel's choice of words and he didn't bother concealing the venom in his voice.

"So Roger healed you, big deal. What's your point?"

The Glyphian's tone grew impatient at his rival's stupidity.

"I don't think you understand the crux of the situation, Leingod. A dragon's curse _cannot_ be undone. It is unheard of and impossible. But somehow, that little fool changed my fate; gave me powers I have been denied and should be denied for the rest of my life. I'm no dragon knight, yet here I stand bearing the mark and worthy of the Crimson Scourge. I don't know how, I don't know why, but it is no coincidence."

"Hey, come to think of it, hadn't Ameena been suffering from Tuberculosis?" Mirage snapped her fingers as she suddenly recalled that fact. "That illness is incurable on this planet's level of development, but Roger healed her, didn't he? And Ameena didn't die from her illness, but from the Vendeeni's attack."

"Hold on just a second," Maria whirled around sharply. "He _changed_ a person's fate?!"

This was insane. What the hell was going on?

Arzei turned to address the now very silent Prime Minister in the room. "Aznor, your son…"

"Aznor?" Romeria questioned as well.

All eyes turned to the leader of Surferio, even the other ministers gave the Menodix worried looks. Malroy reached out to place a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Hey, Aznor, you don't have to–"

But Aznor shook his head and brushed the Fellpool's hand away. No point hiding the truth any longer. With a great and reluctant sigh, he decided to finally address the elephant in the room.

"Roger… has always been different. My wife and I have known this for years now." He paused to shoot Nel an apologetic smile, but the Aquarian only looked more troubled and confused from this latest revelation. "There is a reason he's not part of this meeting and why my family lives in a village far away from the Lost City. Heh, did you really think the Sanmite Republic's Prime Minister would start up an inn because of a hobby?"

"Sir, what are you saying?" Fayt asked, worry and anxiety eating away at his heart. He recalled that strange coma Roger had fallen into during his stay at Aquios. Was something wrong with him?

Aznor offered the blue haired swordsman a troubled smile. Oh boy, how was he going to explain this?

"Well, you see, Roger…"

 _To be continued..._

* * *

 **Author's note:  
**

Leaving you guys with a cliff hanger because I'm evil that way. I hope it keeps you on your toes until the next update! There's a ton of original content in this chapter that would see some follow up as the story progresses. Also, I managed to reference some unresolved content from the first arc, which I'm quite pleased and relieved about. There's just so much to write for this retelling! Why did I embark on this project again?

As always, if you like my story, please leave a review and/or subscribe!


	4. Turn Loose Your Tears

**Resonance of Faith**

 **By Dark Interval**

 **Chapter 4: Turn Loose Your Tears**

* * *

"But I haaaaaaaaaaaaate danger!"

"Grrr… It ain't dangerous, ya gutless wonder! It's just a little heights challenge."

"Did I mention I'm allergic to heights?"

That earned a dramatic eye roll from the former.

"Urgh, you're allergic ta everythin', Dribe…"

After 12 years of living in this world, Roger was inclined to believe that despite the numerous possibilities of what could have been, there were simply some things that were part of Mother Nature's fixed design that could not be altered. He learned that in life, there were three constants: one, all living creatures would eventually die; two, if you swung a door open too hard, it'll swing back and hit you in the face; and three, his good friend was an idiot.

Dribe was staring over the edge of the solitary floating island they were on, his tiny slit eyes blown open so wide, Roger realised that this was the first time he was actually seeing the fox boy's eyes. The former shook his head vehemently and backpedaled until his back hit a tree.

"Nuh-uh! I'm not doing it, real man contest or not. This is crazy!" Then he looked to the younger boy. " _You're_ crazy!"

"Technically, the necessary safety measures have already been put in place," Melt pointed out as he tugged at the crudely tied knot around Dribe's waist. "You have rope."

" _I have rope, he says! Hah!"_

The fox boy was borderline hysterical. Roger sighed dramatically and stomped towards Dribe to undo the knot around his waist and tie it securely around his own. "Fine, ya big moron. I'll go first." Then puffing out his chest, he turned and marched back to the island's edge. Thundering waterfalls and a 500 meter drop greeted him. The challenge was simple: bungee jump without screaming loud enough to wake the dead, and you've proven that you're a real man. True, there would be less room for unfortunate accidents if they actually had some cords and a harness, but they were working around a budget and those things were expensive.

"Ok, I'm gonna go. Melt, ya ready?"

Said boy nodded an affirmative and twitched his ears for good effort. "Listening for the tiniest of screams, Roger."

With that, Roger took a deep breath, closed his ears and leaped over the edge… only to choke as he got roughly yanked back by the collar of his shirt.

"Either the war's done something to your brain, or you're an even bigger idiot than I thought!"

Roger's eyes immediately flew open and he stopped coughing. _That voice._

"L-Lucien?!"

A long brown tail swished in agitation as the young Fellpool in question glared down at him. The older boy still wore the same brown bandana on his head, had the same wooden sword strapped to his hip, looked at him with the same condescending smirk on his lips, and was still annoyingly a whole head taller than him. Behind Lucien, the unmistakable figures of Lezard and Vellion hovered nervously – well, Vellion looked nervous like he always did, while Lezard looked just as cocky as his brother if not a little crazed with his odd glasses. The sight of the latter caused old feelings of dread and panic to resurface in Roger's gut, coupled with an inescapable uselessness as he remembered the young alchemist rushing to save Melt's life when he himself couldn't because he had been too afraid. He remembered Lucien's cold words as his best friend and rival walked out on him. He remembered the end of their friendship and how a group of three never did feel the same. And he remembered the many moons he spent wishing for things to go back to the way they were, as well as his desire to be stronger. The night Nel left the village was the last time their paths crossed. That was half a year ago; so why was Lucien and his gang here now?

 _Probably ta mock me,_ he thought and braced himself for the same harsh words the Fellpool had used on him that fateful night.

But they never came.

Instead, Roger felt hands on his shoulders and gasped as he was pulled into a tight and desperate embrace. The momentum caused his helmet to slide off his head and clatter noisily on the ground. Lucien wrapped his arms around the Menodix's smaller form and buried his face in his hair, before sniffing behind Roger's ear in an affectionate gesture. The uncharacteristic behavior made Roger freeze.

"Lucien, wha…?"

"I thought I lost you," said the older boy, voice hoarse with emotion and his solemn tone prompted the Menodix to snap his mouth shut. "When you left the village, when word got out that Airyglyph had you, I… I…"

 _I was so scared._

And then, Lucien reeled back to punch him in the face.

"Don't you ever do that to me again, you hear?!" he yelled, fist trembling and tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. "Don't you ever do that to us! We spent days searching for you. I couldn't sleep. Lezard kept screwing up his potions. Vellion couldn't eat. Dribe wouldn't stop crying. And Melt kept blaming himself for letting you go. And then the war happened and dad literally had to tie Lezard and myself to a tree, so we wouldn't follow him. It wasn't fair! Melt could get out there and fight, while all I could do was sit around and pray for a stinkin' miracle! _I felt so useless!"_

Roger continued to rub his sore cheek as he stared at his once-friend and rival, dumbfounded. _He cares._ Despite their pasts and Lucien's decision to cut off ties completely, the boy still cared about him – and he had made it very clear in his attempt to literally hammer that fact into him. Hard. And so, Roger laughed; he laughed so hard his cheeks turned pink and his smile reached his eyes; the happiest he had been since he first met Ameena. Lucien forgave him. His friends loved him and Roger could never ask for anything better.

It was his turn to pull the Fellpool into a hug. "I'm sorry," he murmured, and he really meant it. For all the trouble he put them through, the sleepless nights, his recklessness and desperation to prove himself, his selfishness, and for failing to see that the very reason Lucien had been so upset in the first place was because he really cared about his friends.

Lucien smiled. "Yeah, well, we all make mistakes. I've made some pretty dumb ones myself."

"Well, ya know what they say: brothers fight," Roger added, which earned him a chuckle from the other.

"Yeah, I guess they do."

There was an impatient huff from behind them.

"Come onnnnn, you two! Hurry up already," Lezard goaded in his usual drawl as he pushed up his large glasses. "If we're going to have a 'Real Man' contest, then I'll need to see some actual contesting. Vellion and I didn't come all this way just to see you two make up for 999 years." However, his words betrayed the warm and relieved smile on his face.

"He has a point there, guys," said Melt good naturedly as he handed another length of rope to Lucien. "I do agree that victory isn't quite as gratifying without a little competition. Also, Dribe chickened out."

"Hey!"

"Hm…" Lucien considered the tempting offer as he turned to address his old rival. "Whaddaya say, goofball? For old times sake."

Roger grinned. "I say, you're on!" Then he snapped his fingers at Lezard to get his attention. "What's the score, Lezard?"

Said Fellpool cackled, all too eager to get the show started. "If my calculations are correct, you won 47 times, my brother won 48 times, and there were 1504 ties!"

"Heh! Make that 48 times and 1505 ties, cuz I'm gonna win!"

"Dream on, pipsqueak!"

"But is it safe?" asked Vellion unsurely as he studied the drop. It really was a long way down.

"No, it isn't!" Dribe shrieked.

Melt nodded at Vellion. "Positive. They have rope."

"Rope isn't safe enough!"

Vellion's eyes widened as if enlightened. "Ah, if there's rope, they'll be fine I think…"

"Guys!"

"Alright, gentlemen. On the count of three," Melt raised his fingers and the two rivals got into position as they readied themselves for the jump.

"1… 2… 3!"

" _Are any of you even listening to me?!"_

* * *

A pair of pink glossy lips inched up into a fond smile, as the Aquarian stepped away from the city's lookout point and removed herself from the scene. Honestly, it hadn't been difficult to find Roger and his friends; the small, detached isle hovered just under the main city square, plus the amount of racket they made in their excitement was enough to wake the dead. At first, she was half-tempted to join them and see the look on the boys' faces at the return of 'Lieutenant Nel', but decided against it. Once upon a time, they had great adventures together; now, it was Roger's turn to go on his own adventure and forge the path to his brilliant world.

Nel paused to survey her surroundings, before picking a direction and sticking to it. She didn't really have a purpose coming to the city square, but Her Majesty had temporarily relieved her off her duties to seek out some peace and quiet, which left her with only two options: lie in bed at the South Side Inn all day and stare at the ceiling, or explore the Lost City. The answer to that was a no-brainer, so here she was wandering the streets and trying her hardest not to stick out like a sore thumb. Unfortunately, being the only human amongst a kingdom of humanoids made the task rather difficult. It never felt so bad at Roger's village, though she supposed it was a combination of affinity and a smaller populace.

Regardless, she was well known and well loved by the people, many of whom recognized her by name, status and her strong ties with the Huxley family. A few humanoid families waved and smiled at her out of greeting and she encountered a fair share of little girls run up to her brandishing makeshift wooden daggers with proud and zealous grins on their faces. Surferio's hospitality and innocence made her feel a little guilty for her actions during the recent war. Here, there were people who admired her, yet there were many humanoid soldiers who perished under her command.

 _No more fighting._ That was why she was here, wasn't it? To make peace with the nations and push for an armistice, even if the reason was a little unorthodox. She just hoped Airyglyph's King would change his mind, and her stomach fluttered nervously at the thought of tomorrow's second conference. Albel or no Albel, she would hold her tongue this time. They needed to make this truce happen. They needed to stand united to face the future.

Suddenly, she stopped walking and the sigh that escaped her mouth was anything but sentimental.

"You've been following me since I arrived. If you wished to join me, you only needed to ask."

There was a second's pause, before Cliff emerged from a row of shop houses sheepishly. He was rubbing his neck in a way that clearly indicated his discomfort of being found out.

"Can't pull the wool over your pretty eyes, huh?"

"No," she replied with a slight smirk. "And having attractive eyes has nothing to do with my skills."

"Touché."

She placed her hands on her hips and observed him curiously. "What are you doing here? Why are you following me?"

He shrugged. "Same reason as you, I guess. If Fayt and I had to spend another minute in that room counting cracks in the ceiling, I'd mildew!"

The Klausian's expressiveness never failed to inspire laughter from her lips. "I take it Fayt is here as well?"

"We all are actually. The kid went off with Maria to check out what armor and weapons they carry here, and Mirage is busy at one of the taverns challenging a poor bloke who got suckered into arm-wrestling her for a date. I kind of feel sorry for him; she's probably going easy on him; but we all know that date's not happening."

Nel shook her head at that. "And let me guess," she paused to shoot him a knowing stare, "You would have stayed to secure the bets, but you decided to stalk me instead."

"Hey now, stalking is a very strong word. I prefer 'observing with reason'."

"Alright, mister observer, what did you notice?" Nel countered, bemused.

"Well, I saw you watching those furry little chipmunks for almost half an hour," Cliff replied, his expression soft as a fond smile entered his eyes at the memory of how happy and contented the Aquarian had looked, like a mother watching her children grow up. "You're pretty fond of those brats, aren't you? Especially the overgrown squirrel."

Nel sighed at the blonde's less than favorable description of Roger, but otherwise chose not to comment on it.

"Of course I am. The Huxleys are my family," she paused to take in her new surroundings with an uncharacteristic hesitance. "And I suppose… Surferio is my new home."

"You really want this armistice to work, don't you?" said Cliff without missing a beat. He had gotten a lot better at reading the Aquarian's tone and body language, plus he was almost a hundred percent sure that Nel hadn't been faking her rage towards the King when the latter started to reconsider his decision. "Anyway, the reason I followed you is because I wanted to thank you."

Nel blinked in surprise. "For what?"

"For defending us and continuing to trust us, even after everything that's happened," he said in all seriousness and for a moment, Nel could have sworn the normally lively and easygoing blonde aged a little from his confession. "And," he continued as he fixed her with a meaningful stare, gaze smoldering, "for forgiving me for the stories I spun and for starting something we both can't finish."

When said out loud like that, the truth only reminded Nel about her anger and sadness about their situation, about their first meeting and her subsequent relationship with Cliff, despite how short-lived it was. And yet, she couldn't stay mad at him; hurt, yes, but the rage had only been temporary. She and Cliff were a lot alike and shared similar priorities, so she understood, even if their relationship suffered from the consequences. Then again, she supposed she only had herself to blame for willingly putting her heart on her sleeve, for a man who couldn't promise her anything more tangible than fleeting dreams.

"I can't say I forgive you, not just yet," she finally answered in truth. "But from one mission person to another, I understand why you did what you did. Fayt was your charge and you were doing whatever it took to protect him and prevent outsiders from jeopardizing the mission. It was your duty."

"Yeah? How'd you figure that?"

Nel frowned, confused by Cliff's response. "W-Well… Quark is supposedly a–"

"No, I meant the first one, about forgiveness." And a small smile grace his features as he closed the gap between them in short, calm strides. He ducked his head to seek Nel's blushing gaze. "I'll do whatever it takes, I'll wait for you. You think you could do it before we leave?"

"Why?"

"So we can finish what we both started."

Nel's chest fluttered and clenched painfully at the same time from Cliff's heartfelt words. Now she understood how it felt like to be both happy and sad at the same time. It was excruciating, yet wonderful; frustrating, yet left her with a certain sort of peace. Cliff loved her. He loved her and was willing to see this through till the very end, even if there was nothing to gain but heartbreak. And… she loved him. She loved him enough to follow this crazy man's offer and run with him, until his star ship disappeared above the clouds and she could run no more.

"Alright."

"Good. Catch!"

Nel gave a start and she quickly raised her hands, palms up to catch a small paper bag. It was warm and when she opened it, a small amount of steam came out.

"What's this?" she asked as she plucked at the foreign pastry. It was soft and fluffy like a cake, but shaped like a fish.

"The furries call it _Dorayaki_ ," Cliff explained with a laugh as he watched her sniff at it and take a hesitant bite. "It's basically pastry filled with red bean paste, so it's a little sweet. I prefer calling them stuffed fish pancakes myself."

Nel rolled her eyes good naturedly. "How poetic."

They walked down the streets in comfortable silence, Nel eating her _dorayaki_ contemplatively, while Cliff took his time window shopping. With the sun going down, fairy lights dancing in the skies, and the pavements lined with quaintly designed street lamps, the scene felt rather romantic. In fact, it almost felt like a date, but Cliff decided to keep his mouth shut lest he ruined the moment. They entered a blacksmith where Cliff got his gauntlets repaired with a few nifty upgrades, such as his sudden ability to perform _Earth Glaive,_ which he got all excited about. "I think I'm starting to like this place!" he had said, and Nel couldn't resist shaking her head fondly at his enthusiasm. Really, the blonde muscle man acted more like a kid than an adult, but it was endearing rather than annoying.

It was when they were waiting at the ship dock at sundown when Nel suddenly spoke up.

"Don't worry, we'll help you escape safely. Even if Airyglyph refuses to join forces, I'll do whatever it takes to get you out. I… I believe you people are worthy of my trust."

Cliff stared at her in complete shock and for a moment, his mind drew a blank. But soon enough, a grateful smile spread across his face, one that Nel had never seen as sincere and beautiful as now.

"Thanks, Nel. Coming from you, I really appreciate it."

* * *

'Great going, genius. You just _had_ to get distracted by that fun fair and their stupid games and now you're the only one waiting for a dumb boat,' Fayt mentally berated himself as he sat miserably at the pier by himself. Oh well, at least he managed to win Maria that _Adorable Kitty Doll_ she liked so much. Leader of a notorious anti-federation organization or not, all girls were the same, along with their natural gravitation towards all things cute and cuddly. That thought brought a smile to his lips. Maybe she reminded him of Sophia or he found her rare smiles charming, but there was just something gratifying about seeing Maria happy. Quark's leader was always so serious, and there was always a sad, wistful look deep in her eyes that Fayt couldn't quite shake off. It was the kind of sadness that a girl her age _shouldn't_ have to experience, like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and the burden was much too great to bear alone.

 _So much for that._ Maria had left earlier for the South Side Inn to take a call from someone by the name of Marietta, while he opted to stay in his determination to beat one of the game stalls. Hey, what could he say? He kind of enjoying moving target strike games and on an underdeveloped planet such as this one, this was the closest he could get to even a fraction of the archaic Earth 'Space Invaders' game. Besides, those targets were _insane_. And so, he beat the game (apparently the only person who ever managed to) and won the grand prize of 250,000 fol. At least he had his next meals, armor and weapon repairs covered, along with a comfortable sum to tinker at a workshop if he felt like it.

But every silver lining had a shadow, and now he found himself stuck waiting for the last ship that would depart Surferio's city square, which he wasn't even sure was coming at all because it was already twilight. Plus, he left his communicator back at the inn, thus leaving him completely stranded.

 _Should've left with Maria,_ he thought regretfully, _should've remembered that the whole city's floating._ Things were less convenient when they weren't connected; then again, it wasn't everyday Fayt visited a kingdom without a ground and a whole lot of floating islands.

Just when he contemplated asking a local for ship timings, a familiar vessel with golden sails and gliders pulled up next to him. Delightful tinkling music emitted from its design like an orgel, reminding Fayt of those quaint little antique music boxes his mother liked to collect back at home. And from the deck appeared Roger, who appeared both eager and unsure in his presence. The Menodix blinked at him with wide, curious eyes.

"Fayt? What're ya doin' here so late? The last ship left 10 minutes ago."

His comment left the Earthling feeling even more sorry for himself.

 _Well, bugger that._

Fayt sighed and let loose a humorless chuckle. "Guess that explains why I'm the only one here."

"Oh."

Roger bit his lip and considered the swordsman's predicament. True, he had a boat of his own and _South Side_ wasn't inconvenient to get to, but Fayt and him were in a weird place in their relationship right now and he didn't know if he could handle being alone with the older male for an entire boat ride. However, before he could stop to think, his heart acted on impulse and the question had already left his mouth.

"Do ya need a ride? I know where _South Side Inn_ is… I could take ya there."

His unexpected and generous offer actually left Fayt momentarily stunned. Not only had Roger taken the initiative to talk to him, but he also offered to help him. Given the way the humanoid had pushed him away and refused to look at him since his apology, he never expected Roger to willingly suggest being alone together in such close proximity. The boy's behavior was hot and cold; his actions confused him (did Roger still like him or not?), but Fayt wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Thanks, Roger. You're a lifesaver."

With that, he vaulted over the port side rails and they were off, speeding through the clouds of a milky twilight.

The trip was generally quiet, save the slight creaking of wood every time Roger turned the wheel and the rustling of fabric from the billowing sails. Fayt laid out comfortably on the deck, head propped on his arms as he stared up at the darkening skies and the numerous twinkling stars. They painted the heavens in trails of glittering diamonds; and if Fayt thought the stars were beautiful in Airyglyph, they were even more breathtaking in Surferio. The air was cool, calm and peaceful, not at all awkward like he imagined. Roger steered wonderfully, a clear indication that the boy did this often; and the luxury of space definitely beat cramming together with a dozen over people on the public vessels. With a contented sigh, Fayt closed his eyes and allowed the boat's gentle rocking to soothe his troubled mind. _Damn, I could get used to this…_

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me, or I'll have ta toss ya overboard," said Roger in a teasing voice, laughing at his own joke.

Fayt sat up and feigned hurt. "Aw, but I'm too young, good looking and talented to die…" But he broke off laughing when Roger threw one of his shoes his way. He caught the small, child-size boot effortlessly and shot the Menodix his usual smile. Roger rolled his eyes.

"Yeesh, yer soooo full of yerself!"

"What can I say? I learned from the best."

"Ok, _somebody's_ gonna walk the plank fer that!"

They stared each other down, before the facade crumbled and both boys broke off into a series of giggles. Fayt's expression turned tender as he continued to look at the innocent child before him, taking in the way his smile lit up his eyes with adoration and a deep longing. Roger looked away with a blush, ears fluttering in embarrassment. He really hated how the swordsman's stares did funny things to his stomach.

"A-Anyway," he opted for a change in subject, "What were ya doin' at City Square so late?"

"I was hanging around the fun fair with Maria." Fayt shrugged, casually gazing out at the passing scenery and completely missing the jealous expression on the humanoid's face. "She really wanted this stuffed kitty doll, so I won it for her. We played some more games after that – oh, and turns out she's _insanely_ good at shooting games, go figure." An excitable spark entered his eyes at the memory. "It was great. Honestly, I can't remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much. Back on earth, there weren't many people who could keep up with me; I even had to force Sophia to spend at least three minutes on the battle simulator and she would complain after five seconds!" Fayt chuckled fondly at the thought of his childhood and best friend, and was reminded just how much he missed her.

"Sophia's yer best friend, right? The girl who looks a lot like Ameena?" Roger clarified.

"Yeah, that's right. Maria's no Sophia, but she's probably the only person I know who's good at games _and_ even beat me twice!"

"Sounds like a challenge," came Roger's bitter tone, but being the dense guy that he was, Fayt never actually noticed. The truth of the matter was, he couldn't stand their conversation any longer. He didn't want to hear about Maria or how amazing she was. He didn't want to see the spark that lit up Fayt's eyes everytime he mentioned how good at games the beautiful gunslinger was. Roger knew he wasn't as amazing as he often proclaimed himself to be; he enjoyed games, but he wasn't very good at them; his aim wasn't that great, so he preferred to fight close range; and he wasn't from Fayt and Maria's world. God help him if he knew what a _battle simulator_ was. But… that's just it; the more Fayt shared, the more Roger realised they had less things in common and the distance between them only seemed to grow greater. Like an attractive, polished sword forged in the latest design, Maria was new – sharper, deadlier, more stylish; whereas he was worn out, but kept out of sentiment.

"You've been spending a lot of time with her lately. Ya two close friends?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. It's just…" And at this, Fayt's carefree smile fell. "Maybe it's because I feel like she's the only person here who gets me, who doesn't see me as some kind of monster."

The swordsman's words and despondent tone sent a sharp pang through Roger's heart. It wasn't just the lonely expression on Fayt's face that hurt him. All this while, he had thought he was the only person who understood Fayt on an intimate level, but it seemed the older male felt otherwise and now found solace in someone else. Furthermore, he was implicitly accusing him for a thought that never once crossed his mind. Then again, all he ever did was push Fayt away, so it was easily mistaken.

"Ya ain't a monster, Fayt," Roger whispered, silently willing the other understand he didn't hate him. _**I**_ _don't think you're a monster._ But Fayt's sardonic laugh made the Menodix's ears flatten against his head in shame.

"Hah, that's a good one." With a pause, Fayt ran through all the memories in his head from the past few weeks, a troubled frown upon his brow. "The thing is, I don't remember. I don't remember anything. All I hear are these stories that everyone's been telling me about how I single handedly destroyed the Vendeeni battleship with these powers I never knew I had, about how I can destroy practically _anything_ if I so willed it."

His answer came as a genuine surprise to Roger, who strained his head over the steering wheel to observe Fayt. When he did, the blue haired teen was staring blankly at his hands, which trembled, as if horrified at the very prospect of what he had done and what he could potentially do again.

"Woah, wait a mean… ya didn't know?"

"About my powers? No!" Fayt shook his head vehemently, frustrated at the situation. "For 19 years, I grew up believing I was just a normal college student from earth! I was barely passing symbological genetics and my foundational studies of astrobiology still gives me nightmares. The only powers I thought I had was clocking an average of over 200 APM!"

"I… Um… what's APM?"

If the situation had been any different, he would have thought Roger's befuddled expression to be utterly adorable.

"It's a gaming term, basically an abbreviation of 'actions per minute'. A casual player has about 50 actions, an experienced player has about 75 actions and…" Realizing he had probably lost Roger a long time ago, Fayt decided to drop the subject completely. "Never mind, pretend I never said anything."

The Earthling went back to stargazing, while a poor Roger struggled between his better judgement and his compassion. But Fayt looked so alone, so lost – and in the end, the latter decision won as Roger secured the rudder and stepped away from the wheel, so he had Fayt's figure in plain sight. The swordsman didn't realise he was being watched, until Roger opened his mouth.

"… I saw ya, ya know? When it happened." Fayt turned and raised an eyebrow questionably. "But... I didn't see ya destroy that ship. In that moment, there was something else I saw; something much more important… Wanna know what it is?" An innocent gleam filled his large brown eyes. They held Fayt's gaze and he couldn't resist the pull of those eyes as he slowly approached the child.

"What?" He dared to breathe and his voice turned thick with anticipation and longing. The slight flush of Roger's cheeks only served to spur him on.

"All I saw, was two big, beautiful white wings, and a body bathed in the brightest, warmest light I've ever felt." He closed his eyes and smiled happily at the memory. "I didn't see a monster; I saw an angel. _My_ angel. The one that I wished fer. The one that came all the way from the stars ta protect me. The one that I lo–" And when he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find Fayt standing right in front of him, expression unreadable, until he ducked his head and his lips were but a hair's breadth away from his.

"That you…?" Fayt whispered passionately, knowingly, his eyes half-lidded. A pair of hands snaked around the back of Roger's neck and cradled his head tenderly, inclining it so that he could fully capture the boy's needy gaze with his own. Then, he brought their bodies even closer and the pleasant heat that surrounded Roger from the contact caused him to let out an involuntary moan. And when the boy thought things couldn't get even more out of control, Fayt lips brushed against his softly, gently, barely a kiss; yet it produced the same desired effect, if not more. Roger's cheeks bloomed a beautiful red and his entire body trembled with desire for the swordsman in his arms. _It's been too long._ Small fingers curled against Fayt's chest. Gods, he missed him.

"F-Fayt… I…"

"Roger…"

A tongue licked teasingly at his lips and they parted immediately with a quiet gasp.

"F-Fayt... I… I love–"

Suddenly, the boat gave a violent jerk and the pair landed on the floor with a loud ' _thud'._ Due to Roger's inattention, they had crashed straight into the floating island where South Side Inn stood. Fayt didn't seem to mind the interruption to their moment though, as he let out a quiet chuckle.

"Looks like we made it, rather forcefully anyway," he mused, before getting up and offering his hand to Roger for the latter to do the same. "Thanks for the ride. I guess this is goodnight?"

The way Fayt asked that last bit clearly indicated that he didn't want to leave, and neither did Roger. They had shared something back there. Something neither had experienced since the outbreak of the war and the start to the string of complications surrounding their relationship.

Since that time in Castle Aquaria's bathing chamber, Roger had almost forgotten how it felt like to kiss Fayt, to hold and be held by him like a goddess and openly worshipped through his smoldering stare alone, like he was the only living soul in the entire universe that meant a damn thing. Roger felt his feelings and thoughts start to change the moment he realised Fayt was in fact, oblivious to his own powers. The guy had no idea those Vendeeni wanted him, no idea they would chase him down and open fire on a slew of innocent people just to get to him, no idea Ameena would die in the crossfire, and couldn't possibly imagine or account for the sheer amount of damage and loss of lives caused during the attack on Aire Hills. This whole time, he had misunderstood the situation and Fayt's position. The swordsman was innocent in this entire conspiracy and he felt horrible for blaming Fayt, for treating him the way that he did. Like Lucien said, everyone made mistakes, some dumber than others – and Roger felt his was the dumbest of them all . If Fayt was kind, if he could give him a second chance, Roger hoped he could earn his forgiveness and love once more. He wanted to keep trying, even if things couldn't return exactly to the way they once were. But at the very least, they could go forward. He had to try.

"Um… Fayt?"

"Yes?"

Roger blushed and Fayt thought it was the prettiest thing he had ever seen… though he had a feeling Roger would sock him upside the head for that. Real men weren't supposed to be _pretty._

"Would ya like ta… um… come fer the 'Kingdom Dance'?" he asked as his tail swished about in stiff, apprehensive motions. "It's a celebration we hold once every midsummer's eve at Surferio. The whole city's invited and there's food and drinks – and music! Everyone gathers ta dance together; it's like a huge party! Mama's gonna sing as always, and I'll be playing with the other musicians…" At this, he lowered his gaze and nervously rocked back and forth on the heels of his boots. "I-If ya aren't doin' anythin' ta'nite, ya could… maybe… come?"

Fayt chuckled at the innocent display. Roger really was cute. He ducked down and placed a quick kiss on the surprised Menodix's cheek. "It's a date." And with that, he grabbed his things and leaped off the boat and onto the stone path, which led up to _South Side Inn._

Roger scrambled to the side of the boat and called out to him, tail wagging. "It's at the Plaza! There's a ship that comes around 8. Oh, and ya can invite the rest too – even the king and queen! There's plenty of food fer everyone!"

Fayt laughed and saluted him in the distance. "You got it!"

Tentatively, Roger reached up to touch the spot where Fayt had kissed him, and watched the blue haired swordsman enter the inn and shut the door behind him with a smile on his face. He couldn't wait for tonight.

* * *

Music and merriment filled the warm nighttime air, as the crowd gathered at Surferio's Plaza to celebrate the midsummer harvest under the light of the full moon. Stalls selling various culinary fancies and colorful concoctions of both alcohol and non-alcoholic variety, lined every road and street. Each one appeared to try and outdo one other with their goods and decorations; it was like a bazaar of never-ending colour, light and sound; and the quaint little buildings and houses, as well as the clear and shimmering night sky provided a charming backdrop for the entire scene. Chimney smoke rose up from the buildings in faint wisps; each stall was sufficiently lit; and the excitable laughter of humanoids pervaded the air as they spotted their new foreign guests amongst them.

Fayt and company had arrived a little under an hour ago, and were now exploring the bustling Plaza. Roger was right; there really was a lot of food to go around for supper and the group often found themselves spoiled for choice. It was a painful, life and death decision, but Cliff eventually settled for some tomato rice wrapped in the fluffiest and most perfect omelette he had ever seen, only to screw his indecision and went back for those awesome-looking gravy covered balls filled with tentacles of some animal which name he couldn't even come close to pronouncing right. When he came back, an additional plate of colourful balls of flour covered in sweet sauce sat in his other hand, and an exasperated Nel had to help the very happy Klausian carry some of his food. In the end, the pair just ended up sharing everything, including a pint of beer. While Cliff and Nel made themselves at home, Fayt had his hands full of food and drink and patiently followed Maria around as she perused the few handmade trinkets and traditional folk craft from whichever stall they passed. The more time he spent with her, the more he realised Maria was into the arts and culture, despite her advanced technological know-how and logic-centered approach to everything. In a way, she was a balance of him and Sophia, which was a little strange. He guessed one really couldn't judge a book by its cover.

It wasn't a surprise that Albel declined participating in such "meaningless celebratory garbage", as he had so eloquently put it. What was a surprise though, was that Romeria had insisted on coming along; and what was _even more_ surprising was that despite his escort's absence, Arzei too showed interest in joining them. Mirage had politely offered to step in on Albel's behalf; and so, while the two rulers observed the night's festivities, she and Nel kept close in between their own patronage.

"I never would have guessed the Sanmite Republic to throw such lively and large scale celebrations," Arzei mused as he fell in pace with the silent Holy Mother.

"Yes, it is quite lovely. I am grateful for Roger's invitation to partake in his kingdom's customs," Romeria replied, admiring the decor and giggling humanoid families who passed them by. "20 years ago, Airyglyph and Aquaria held such combined celebrations. Our kingdoms took turns hosting the solstices. Do you remember?"

"How could I forget?" he replied with a fond chuckle. "After all, that was when we first met. You were only a young temple maiden."

"And you were Airyglyph's Prince."

"Yes, things were much simpler back then," he reached out to gently grasp her hands in his, eyes warm and full of longing as their gazes locked. "Sometimes, I lie awake at night wishing for the past. Isn't it foolish for a king to do so? I fear it may be a sign of age…"

Romeria allowed a sliver of emotion to show on her face, before breaking eye contact to stare down at their connected hands, Arzei's larger ones over her smaller ones, and for a brief moment, she had a vision of a young boy holding a little girl's hands in the exact same fashion. The memory was so strong, it made her heart lurch painfully.

"We cannot repeat the past, Arzei," she whispered and reluctantly pulled away. The King let her, though his expression remained inexplicably amorous.

"That may be true, Romeria," he conceded, "but we can move forward and create a better future – for ourselves and for our people. I have faith."

"Arzei…"

"Um… Your majesty, your highness?" Fayt interrupted the pair, who turned to him curiously. He bowed respectfully, before indicating at the raised gazebo at the center of the Plaza. A crowd was already starting to gather and a large area was cordoned off in front of it for the dance floor. "Sorry for intruding, but I think the performance is about to start. Would you like to move up front?"

As if on cue, the rest of their party joined them, Nel and Mirage gazing at their charges expectantly. Romeria and Arzei shared a meaningful stare.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" said the King with a smile. "Let's go before the good spots are taken."

At the gazebo overlooking the vast crowd, Roger played a few simple chords on his flute. The other musicians were busy tuning their instruments, while Forte Huxley did some simple vocal warm ups. Roger's eyes searched the crowd, until they found Fayt's sparkling emerald ones. _He came._ His tail wagged happily, which didn't go unnoticed by the blue haired teen. "Good luck," Fayt mouthed from his place in the audience and Roger smiled, his heart beating a tattoo against his chest. Tonight couldn't be more perfect.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd, as his mother sang the opening verse of a renowned folk song; her voice carrying clear and beautiful across the Plaza.

 _A kite above a graveyard grey  
At the end of the line far far away  
A child holding on to the magic of birth and awe_

Roger brought his flute to his lips and played the chords of a gentle song he knew all too well. The vibrations reverberated through the air, the flute's melody touching every ear and enchanting the soul. A lute followed his cue and the rhythmic accompaniment brought magic to Forte's resonant voice.

 _Oh, how beautiful it used to be  
Just you and me far beyond the sea  
The waters, scarce in motion  
Quivering still_

A violin joined the ensemble, and she raised her head to the chorus.

 _A the end of the river the sundown beams  
All the relics of a life long lived  
Here, weary traveler rest your wand  
Sleep the journey from your eyes_

Fayt watched on, mesmerized by the nostalgic quality of Forte's voice and Roger's skillful playing. The flute sounded almost hypnotic in the quiet of the night, and each instrument in the band complemented one another perfectly. It was a simple tune, yet Roger played beautifully with surprising grace and finesse. The Menodix had such a dynamic personality: he was a fighter; a trickster; a dreamer; an artist – and Fayt found himself falling more in love with him with each new discovery, with every passing moment.

By then, a few couples had made their way to the open dance floor in front of the gazebo and began to dance in a slow waltz. Nel watched the romantic scene with a soft smile on her lips, while Cliff watched her with an uncharacteristically nervous expression on his face. His fingers twitched as he inched towards the oblivious red head, but his hand quickly returned to his side every time he chickened out. Mirage observed her childhood friend with an exasperated roll of her eyes, before none too gently shoving Cliff at the obvious object of his affections. Nel started at the contact and he immediately collected himself, clearing his throat and then extending his hand in invitation for a dance. With wide eyes, she gazed at him in a mixture of awe and disbelief, before shyly accepting his hand with a light blush on her cheeks. Cliff led Nel to the dance floor and pulled her close, and being the only human couple moving in a sea of humanoids, their romantic declaration couldn't be more apparent.

 _Good journey, love, time to go  
I checked your teeth and warmed your toes  
In the horizon I see them coming for you_

 _The mermaid grace, the forever call  
Beauty in spyglass on an old man's porch  
The mermaids you turn loose brought back your tears_

Romeria watched her high commander in surprise, unaccustomed to seeing the usually serious and headstrong Aquarian so unrestrained and carefree – and with one of the outsiders no less! As she watched the pair dance with an uncanny familiarity, she failed to sense the presence of a certain Glyphian, until he opened his mouth.

"Do you miss it? Our midnight rendezvous?" said Arzei, as he looked on at the scene with a wistful sigh. "When your family came to visit, we would sneak up to the north tower and dance beneath the falling snow. When it was my turn, we would creep down to the chapel and claim it as our own."

Romeria closed her eyes in remembrance. "... Yes, I do. But is it wrong for a Queen to indulge in such thoughts? We are no longer children, Arzei." But she gasped when said man offered his arm to her. "A-Arzei, what…?"

"We are no longer in Airyglyph or Aquaria, and tonight we are neither king nor queen. Just this once, can we ignore the chains of pride that define and divide us," said Arzei, gaze and tone beseeching, his love profound. "This is the Lost City, my dear Romeria; no one will judge us here. For old times sake, may I have this dance?"

 _At the end of the river the sundown beams  
All the relics of a life long lived  
Here, weary traveler rest your wand  
Sleep the journey from your eyes_

And to Arzei's immense surprise, Romeria gracefully hooked her arm around his and sharing a secret smile, they proceeded to the dance floor together. The humanoids beamed at the charming sight and happily made room for the childhood sweethearts. A drumbeat sounded in the distance and the violins' tempo increased, as the climax of the song picked up.

 _At the end of the river the sundown beams  
All the relics of a life long lived  
Here, weary traveler rest your wand  
Sleep the journey from your eyes_

The blaring of a trumpet sounded over the other instruments at the song's interlude. Drums broke into a march and Roger's flute pitched like the whistling of a lone traveler journeying across high mountains. The atmosphere of this poetic tale was truly amazing, pulling the audience in as characters of their own story, lost in a world of music and rhyme. The song transitioned from slow to upbeat. In the swirl of colour and moving bodies, Fayt stood and stared past the dancing figures at his little trickster with his flute, as he contemplated his next move. Albel wasn't here, Roger obviously still felt something for him, and he would be damned if he allowed this opportunity to go to waste. Only problem was, he had no bloody clue how to dance.

 _At the end of the river the sundown beams  
All the relics of a life long lived  
Here, weary traveler rest your wand  
Sleep the journey from your eyes_

Roger looked up in the middle of his playing and was immediately held captive by Fayt's intoxicating gaze. He couldn't stop playing though, since his part was not yet through; but he felt his heart hammer excitedly against his ribs when he saw the handsome swordsman make his way through the crowd and head straight for him. His tail wagged in anticipation the closer Fayt got. He looked so determined, so impossibly eager, and his smoldering stare made Roger hot with arousal. _Is he really gonna…?_

But just then, Maria cut into his path and grabbed him by the hands. Fayt stared at her in surprise and sputtered something indiscernible, but she simply laughed and dragged him to the dance floor with twirl and jovial sway of her hips. He stumbled after her, stiff and unsure at first, but mimicking Maria's moves was not difficult and soon enough, they were clapping to the beat and dancing around each other in perfect harmony. From his spot in the band, Roger stared and felt his heart break.

 _At the end of the river the sundown beams  
All the relics of a life long lived  
Here, weary traveler rest your wand  
Sleep the journey from your eyes!_

Forte's singing receded into the background and the band took center stage with their music. Drum beats got louder and more pronounced; fiddles and violins waxed their melodies under the light of the full moon; and the lute strummed to the beat of the couples' clapping as human and humanoid alike danced and made merry to a midsummer night's cheer. Fayt spun Maria around in an elegant twirl. Cliff lifted Nel by the waist and spun her around. And Arzei had Romeria in a romantic dip, lips but a breath apart, just as the song drew to a close. Upon noticing the King and Queen's close proximity, the crowd burst into a chorus of cheers and wolf whistles; even Fayt and gang encouraged the pair with applause of their own. However, the only person who did not share the crowd's happiness, was a certain 12-year-old Menodix boy.

Roger watched from his seat as Maria continued to hang off Fayt's arm, the pair laughing and smiling as they came down from the evening's high. Fayt never once looked his way; it hurt so much; and just when he thought his evening couldn't get any worse, Maria leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss Fayt on the cheek. Stunned, the teen looked at her with wide eyes; she smiled shyly and he blushed in response.

Angry tears welled up in Roger's eyes. _Fayt, ya liar… ya big fat liar!_ With a snarl, he threw his flute aside and ran off into the night, his heartbroken sobs a faint whisper amongst the stars.

* * *

 _Idiot, liar, moron, jerk… No good two timin' dummy!_

Roger sniffed and kicked a stone in his path. He had no tears left to shed, his anger waned, but his heart felt like it had been ripped in two and the pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He tried to tell himself it wasn't real, that what he saw must have been a trick caused by the faerie lights, but denial helped no one and even Roger knew pathetic when he heard it. Still, the confusion and hurt remained; Fayt's words contradicted his actions; and he was left to pick up the shattered fragments of his already beaten and bruised heart. Did Fayt really love him, or just the thought of him? Which was it?

 _If only things could be as simple as they were back in Arias,_ he thought sadly as he looked to the sky and saw a shooting star fly pass, _if only I didn't like Fayt as much as I do now._

The streets that led to the island's outskirts were silent and empty. Everyone was at the Plaza celebrating, but Roger didn't feel like going back for fear of what he might find. He had enough surprises for one evening, thank you very much. Plus, the wound Fayt inflicted was still raw and he didn't trust himself _not_ to break down crying in front of said man and the gang. Nel would demand for answers and he didn't have the strength to confront the truth again. For now, he just wanted to be alone.

Thankfully, he knew a place.

It was a secluded clearing at the island's southeastern border: previously, it made up part of Surferio's forest, but the land had broken up into various floating segments over the years, with this biggest part converted into the Plaza. While majority of this place got developed, a small portion of the old forest still remained – and that was where he was going. The clearing was located the furthest from the town's hustle and bustle, isolated by the covering of shadows and trees. It's cliff side overlooked Peterny in the near distance, beholden to the most amazing view of the trading town's picturesque nightscape. Not many people knew of this place, and Roger was pretty sure only he and his friends knew how to access this particular area… at least, that was what he thought, until now.

There, in the middle of the secluded clearing on a giant tree stump, sat none other than Albel the Wicked, his posture relaxed and head inclined towards the stars. A soft, contemplative expression adorned his sharp, handsome features that were usually set in a dark and broody frown; and a warm breeze blew past, causing his long dark hair and wrappings to flutter behind him. There was just something so darkly alluring about the knight's stoic silhouette; Albel really was a work of art; and Roger continued to observe him silently from behind a tree, curious and fascinated over his unexpected presence. What in the world was Albel doing here? Why wasn't he at the Plaza? How did he manage to find this place?

And then all of a sudden, without averting his gaze from the heavens, Albel spoke clearly into the night, "How long do you intend to watch me, little fool? I know you're there."

Roger gave a start and for a moment, kept incredibly still. He hesitated; this was _Albel Nox_ , a murderer and the cruelest swords master in all of Gaitt, who could cut off his head faster than he could scream for mercy. Did he really want to announce himself to a killer, much less risk being alone with him? That thought gave him pause, as he recalled their very first encounter in Peterny and how he healed the Glyphian's arm. At that time, he had witnessed Albel at his most vulnerable… and then at the Kirlsa Training Facility, he had let them go. Not only that, but he killed his own lieutenant before their very eyes. _He saved me… Why?_ That was a question that still plagued Roger till this day. If Albel truly was a cold-blooded murderer like the stories said, he wouldn't have done any of those things. If he really was as cruel as the people believed, he would have already killed him right where he stood, instead of starting up a harmless conversation.

And so, decision made, Roger stepped out from behind his hiding place and approached the fallen knight.

"How didja know I was there?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I heard you, fool."

"Woah, are ya secretly a humanoid or summin'?" And he was being awfully quiet too.

Albel gave him a look that clearly asked if he was joking. "No... but I suppose years of harsh training in adverse conditions and constantly watching your back does that to you. It makes one paranoid."

Roger cocked his head in question. "Well, why do ya need ta watch yer back all the time?"

"When you're the youngest military captain in history to grace the ranks of the second most revered brigade in all of Airyglyph, you begin to realise very quickly that the position comes with its drawbacks," he explained patiently with a wry smirk. "People would _kill_ for this title, especially those who served the royal family for years. People older, wiser, more experienced – and I was only 21." He looked away with a derisive snort. "Sleep – _actual_ sleep – is a luxury I can't afford."

"But ya can sleep here," Roger protested. "Well, not _here_ exactly, but Surferio's safe and we're practically floating! No one's gonna try and kill ya… I doubt anyone can."

Albel was half-tempted to tell the Menodix that he was completely missing the point, but decided against it in favor of changing the subject. After all, there were far more pressing things to talk about, such as the child's persistent sorrow. Since their reunion by the bridge earlier that afternoon, he noticed a change in the humanoid's demeanor, a subtle shift in personality, yet appeared so glaringly obvious to his trained eye. Unlike the first time they met, Roger had lost his innocence: the curious and excitable spark in his eyes had dulled; he was less impulsive and feisty; his confidence paled in comparison to his previous spunk; and as much as it pained Albel to admit this even to himself, he actually (God forbid) missed how annoying the brat could be. Truth be told, it wasn't _that_ drastic; but Albel noticed these things – and Roger's sudden maturity was something that called out to him louder than the sight of those dry streaks of tears on his cheeks. He came all this way from prison expecting to see that same, innocent 12-year-old with a rose and the irritating ability to chew his ear off; he wasn't prepared for this.

"You were crying," he pointed out and traced the outline of Roger's tears with a claw before he could stop himself. Fortunately, for whatever reason, the boy was too distracted by the reminder of his sadness to question the intimate quality of the usually distant and stoic swordsman's actions. "I presume that's the reason you're not celebrating that worthless festival with the others?"

"It ain't 'worthless', Albel," said Roger with a pout and mock glare, but deflated with a sigh at the man's piercing and perceptive vermilion gaze. "Yeah, kinda… but it's really his fault, that big jerk!"

Albel raised an eyebrow. "'His'? Don't tell me you're talking about that second-rate swordsman of yours."

"He ain't 'mine' either."

Albel's eyebrow rose higher if possible. Huh, with the way Leingod reacted back at the conference, he only assumed that the two were still a couple. Had that much changed in the span of a single week? Was their relationship in shambles? _Interesting…_

"Anyway, what about ya? Why are _ya_ here?" Roger quickly opted for a change in subject.

"Unfortunately, I'm the King's escort," he explained with open disdain, as if the position brought him great inconvenience than honor. "This happens to be the only place where the music, laughter and the sickening sounds of merry-making are unable to reach."

" _Yeesh,_ ya sound like old man Jack down the street… When was the last time you were happy? Would it _kill_ ya ta have fun fer once?"

"If it's so much fun, then why are _you_ here?" Albel countered irritably. He took it back; Roger _still_ had the propensity to annoy the hell out of him. "Besides, worm, parties aren't my idea of fun. It's too loud, too many people, too bright, too…" he hesitated and averted his eyes with a twinge of self-loathing. "One has to keep up appearances. It's just too much."

Roger eyed him with a look of understanding. Social interaction wasn't exactly Albel's forte; the guy had lived most of his life in physical and emotional isolation following the death of his parents, people feared and found reasons to hate him, and the closest form of interaction he possibly got was with his subordinates or enemies – and the latter wasn't even _social_ situation, especially if they mostly ended up dead. It was both elucidating and tragic: silence and solitude was all Albel ever knew; he found pleasure in the act that he associated familiarity with fun. Tentatively, Roger took a seat next to the dark, broody swordsman, but kept a respectful distance. He wasn't sure how Albel felt about physical contact, let alone how sensitive he was with another's proximity, but he wasn't going to take any chances. Then, he sought the older male's gaze with a small smile.

"Am I too loud and too much too?" he asked in a low, uncertain voice, expecting a sarcastic comment in return. Instead, Albel simply reached out with his good hand to grasp his chin with a thumb and forefinger. The touch was surprisingly soft and as the swordsman gazed deep into his eyes, Roger couldn't help but blush from the attention.

"No," Albel replied. "You're… enough."

Roger smiled and touched his hand. "Ya know, you're not as bad as ev'ryone says, or scary."

His words earned him a smirk from the ex-captain, who resisted a chuckle at the child's innocence. "Oh? Is that how you see me?"

"Sorta," Roger replied with a shrug. "Well, that's how I _used ta_ think last time, but Nel changed that."

Albel's eyes narrowed at the sudden mention of said Aquarian. Well, that was completely unexpected. "That Aquarian wench actually had something nice to say about me? Do not jest."

"Nuh uh, she did!" He rushed to defend her, going right up to Albel's face and making him go nearly cross-eyed in the process. "Back then, I made a huge mistake that cost me my friends: my best friend almost died and it was all my fault." Recollecting said memory hurt terribly, but he pressed on in favor of getting the cynical man to understand. "That's when Nel told me about ya; not fer the things ya did, but the kind of person ya stood for. She was the one who told me about yer father and how ya managed ta rise above the ashes and became not just a master swordsman, but Captain of the Black Brigade! You're so cool!"

Albel stared at the humanoid in shock, though his face remained mostly guarded and unreadable. A warmth began to spread in his chest, humbled by the child's words and honest enthusiasm – about him no less! Granted, they were from Zelpher, but Roger called him 'cool' and the term was honestly refreshing compared to his usual title, 'wicked'. It was strange and perplexing; he didn't know what to do with these new emotions and praise, and the discomfort was probably starting to show on his face. But Roger wasn't done.

"Anyway, she used yer story as an example and told me this: there would always be an event in a person's life that would make them stronger. I didn't realise it then, but I guess I kinda looked up ta ya ever since. I… I admired ya…" At this, Roger blushed in embarrassment as his ears flattened against his head. "K-Kinda crazy, huh?"

 _No… quite the opposite,_ was what Albel had wanted to say, but the stoic swordsman settled for a simple, "Hn" instead. It didn't convey much, but the slightest quirk of his lips indicated that the Menodix's confession pleased him, though the latter couldn't put his finger on exactly why. Albel was a strange and mysterious man who didn't really talk much other than insulting anything that walked and breathed. One had to read in between the lines, as well as his facial expressions and body language in order to get even a sense of what he was thinking – and Roger really wasn't good at that. He just assumed that whatever he said was well and safe, considering there were no threats made on his life yet.

Suddenly, Albel stood up and approached the cliffside overlooking Peterny. He took in the quaint little rooftops of houses and lights with a contemplative frown. "Do you… remember when we first met?" His question was so soft, Roger would have missed it if not for his sensitive hearing.

"Um… yeah, I guess?" he answered with a slight tilt of his head. "Why?"

There was a long pause following his question and he assumed he wasn't going to get a response, until the Glyphian surprised him yet again with his honesty.

"That was the first time I remember being _happy_ in years." He turned to watch the Menodix's expression expectantly. "That ridiculous red outfit, those overpriced roses, the way you talked to me like I was… normal. No one treated me the way you did; no one bothers to take a second look like you do. And try as I might, despite the war and my mission to capture you then, I couldn't forget you."

Roger's heart skipped a beat. "A-Albel…"

"You asked me when was the last time I felt happy," he continued with a meaningful stare. "That's my answer."

For a moment, none spoke, the weight of Albel's statement and its implications echoing in the darkness around them and in Roger's head. He wasn't _that_ innocent – he knew when someone liked him or not and he definitely wasn't imagining the older man's feelings; he had suspected this for a while now, especially after Albel saved him from Shelby. But could he accept it? Could he accept another's devotion when he already had Fayt? Could he lean on another man when all his heart longed for was Fayt's love in return? No, the answer was no. He couldn't do this to Albel and lead the poor man on knowing his emotionally depraved past, and yet… he couldn't ignore the excitable flutter in his gut, the heat radiating off his face, and the things Albel's smoldering and determined stare was doing to him. Despite the strange and awkward situation they found themselves in, Roger realised that what Albel felt wasn't as one-sided as he believed: he couldn't forget Albel too.

"Hey, um… y-ya know, ya missed the Kingdom Dance," Roger stuttered shyly, toeing the ground and fully aware what he was getting himself into, but not at all regretful at his decision. "I-It's actually really fun! I could… ah… I could teach ya if ya want? T-Ta dance that is."

He didn't have to look in a mirror to know that his face was red, nor was he expecting any reaction from the ex-captain save a mocking bark or contemptuous sneer. However, Albel did none of those things, which greatly surprised him. Instead, the ex-captain simply folded his arms and looked uncomfortable rather than upset.

"I don't dance, fool," he half-growled, half-muttered.

Roger pouted. "Why not? It's fun!"

"I specifically remember we talked about how arbitrary 'fun' can be."

"Well, how would ya know if ya don't like it if ya haven't tried it?"

"Folk dance is for peasants."

"And you lost your status, so bite me!"

Ok, perhaps that was a little low, even from him. But Albel was being difficult and frustrating and dare he say it, maybe a little childish. Meanwhile, Albel continued to stare at the gutsy Menodix in utter shock. Did the brat just dis him? Normally, such a move would have made him absolutely livid and the boy would most likely be dead, but this was Roger – the brat _had_ the right to be extremely foolish, obnoxious and annoying; it made him strangely endearing in a fiesty sort of way. But Albel had his pride and dignity, so his answer was still n–

"Come on, ya big baby! Even Fayt and that big lummox did it. And ya call yourself a real man?"

" _Fine."_

And with a growl and dramatic swish of his long hair, he approached the humanoid child and stopped to stand in front of him patiently. _Woah._ Roger's eyes had gone impossibly wide, while Albel's rolled in annoyance.

"If it would shut you up, lets get this over with," he grumbled, but the frown on his face betrayed the smile in his eyes. Roger immediately scrambled to stand atop the tree stump and faced his unlikely dance partner.

"O-Ok! It's really easy – just follow my lead! When I clap ta my right, ya clap ta yer right. Then when I bring my right leg across ta kick out, ya bring yer right leg across ta kick out. Basically, just parallel me. We'll go slow… 5, 6, 7, 8!"

What started out clumsy at first, quickly progressed into something more intuitive. Like his skills in battle, Albel was a fast learner and the moment he managed to get over his own embarrassment, the man's performance turned exceptional. Roger figured that his agility in combat earned him his natural flair and grace. From an outsider's perspective, the sight couldn't look more ridiculous: a tall grown man learning the steps of a traditional folk dance from a humanoid child, who stood a mere quarter his size. Granted, the tree stump gave Roger some elevation, but he still only managed to reach Albel's chest and had to keep his head inclined in order to maintain eye contact.

As they danced, Roger unconsciously began to hum the tune of the song his mother sang back at the Plaza. The musical accompaniment helped: Roger performed the steps to the correct beat and timing, and Albel followed through them effortlessly. They spun around in perfect unison, clapped, then held hands as they moved left and then right. The steps eventually repeated themselves; Roger no longer need to keep time; and they performed the dance routine with the Menodix progressing from humming to actual singing. From the wide grin on his face, it was evident the child was having fun and Albel couldn't stop the slight upward twitch of his lips from the knowledge that _he_ was the one responsible for the boy's happiness, _not_ Leingod.

Suddenly, Roger felt a pair of hands wrap firmly around his waist and gasped when he was lifted into the air in a final twirl and dip. Pulling him back up, Albel held onto the child possessively; chest to chest and nose to nose; as if cradling a precious babe. The pair panted from exhilaration as they slowly came down from their high, breaths mingling in the tiny space between. As vermillion and brown locked gazes in an intimate display, Roger gulped and mentally cursed his traitorous tail for wagging excitedly from the attention. Obviously, Albel noticed that and the smirk on his face only widened.

"W-Where… didja learn how ta do that?" asked Roger breathlessly, impressed and flustered all at once.

"I saw that blonde buffoon do this with that Aquarian wench," Albel replied, before his confidence slipped and he hesitated. "Am I… is this… is this appropriate?"

Roger had never heard the older man stutter before. In fact, he was so surprised, he had forgotten how to laugh. Would today's wonders never cease? He was beginning to wonder if Albel had always secretly hid this aspect of his personality from others, or it emerged just because he was here. It was actually quite cute, though he had a feeling the Glyphian would press his blade to his throat if he so much as said that. After all, real men weren't supposed to be cute.

"Um… y-yeah…" he trailed off with a blush, momentarily avoiding Albel's piercing stare, until realization dawned on him. "Wait a sec, ya were there?!"

The swordsman resisted a smirk. "For a little while. I was watching you. You played well."

"Oh, thanks."

Honestly, he didn't know what to say, much less how to feel. On one hand, he knew he liked Fayt, though the latter made him miserable; on the other hand, he never wanted Albel's attentions, but he felt contented around him. He was so confused.

And so, in order to alleviate the anxiety and silence, he reached around Albel's neck to tug at his hair. Hard.

" _Argh, worm!_ "

By gods, that hurt like hell!

"That's fer callin' Nel a bad name, ya jerk!" Roger admonished and stuck out his tongue playfully.

Albel grumbled beneath his breath and was about to shoot the brat the nastiest death glare he could muster, but paused when Roger leaned against his chest in a shy yet affectionate embrace. The Menodix's ears twitched, tickling the exposed skin of his collar, a content smile on his face. Albel stared at the boy in his arms silently, deliberating his situation and the thoughts running through his head. If someone told him 4 years ago that he would develop feelings for a humanoid boy, much less _care_ for another, he would have laughed in their face and then laugh at their grave. But this was the truth now and if he dared to be honest with himself, this was a happy problem he did not mind burdening.

"And what about this?" he asked softly, surprising himself with how gentle he sounded.

"This?" Roger looked up and met his gaze. "This is fer bein' a friend. Thanks, Albel. Thanks fer not pushin' me away."

Albel's grip around the Menodix tightened protectively.

"... You're welcome."

 _To be continued..._

* * *

 **Author's note:**

If anyone's curious, the song is 'Turn Loose the Mermaids' by Nightwish. Go give it a listen, it's beautiful and sets the mood for the chapter's scene perfectly.

Looks like things are (finally) starting to heat up between Albel and Roger ;) Sorry for making Fayt such a fickle-minded jerk, but throwing a monkey wrench into the works needed to happen eventually, and what better way to put his loyalty and love to the test than Maria herself? And why Maria? Because I always felt she obviously had a thing for Fayt in both the game and manga anyway, so why not right? Anyway, our boys are in a very confused place at the moment... except maybe Albel, who (surprisingly) seems to be the only character who knows what he wants from the start and is consistent about it lol.

As always, please fav/follow and leave a review if you like my story! Until next time!


	5. Divided We Fall

**Review response:**

 _xeranii -_ Always a delight to receive a review from my most loyal reader/reviewer! Yes, I want Fayt to realise his idiocy too, but I need Maria to stick to his face for the purposes of plot and character development etc lol. I would imagine Nel would freak and place a ban on their proximity if that ever occurred, but she would support Roger's decisions out of love... even if it means dealing with a man she can't stand to even be within a 5m radius of. Side note: I have his pvc figures too! The kotobukiya one and his miniature, because that little scamp needs more love!

* * *

 **Resonance of Faith**

 **by Darkinterval**

 **Chapter 5: Divided We Fall**

* * *

"I'm sorry, Aznor, but my decision stands: I cannot allow you to enlist Airyglyph's help in this suicide mission. I will not be part of this war!"

The silence that followed the king's proclamation was as uncomfortable as it was stubborn. All four sides had been at it for hours. Everyone had said their piece. Unfortunately, last evening's celebrations did little to diminish Arzei's conviction; but if time itself was a marker of perseverance, then that said a lot about the three rulers, because stubborn they all were.

Fayt drummed his fingers on the stone table as tension spiked. Next to him, Maria continued to wear a face of perfect calm like those politicians Fayt often saw on Earth's wide screen telecasts. Honestly, he had no idea how she managed to keep her face from falling as the disappointment and hours dragged on, but Maria was Quark's leader for a reason, right? _Right._ And she was an expert in intergalactic delegation and negotiation, right? _Right._ Then why was this so bloody difficult?

"Arzei, you must understand," Aznor started up again with a weary sigh. It _had_ been over an hour after all. "As dangerous as it may be, these people… _Leingod,_ " he corrected, _"_ Risked his life to save my son from a war instigated by your own hand. He could've walked away from our problems, but he didn't."

The king's temper flared at that accusation. "And you must understand," he countered harshly, "that I choose to speak not out of sentiment for a deed well-done, but for the good of my people." Arzei paused to give the prime minister and queen a loaded stare.

"The war was my mistake, one that I'm willing to bear and carry that cross to my grave. I failed to heed my Captain's warnings; instead, I punished him for speaking the truth and everyone paid the price for my ignorance and vanity… especially your son."

At his mention, Albel cracked open an eye in slight surprise, but immediately closed it to resume his doze against the wall. _Bah, politics._ If Arzei thought he could earn his forgiveness by acknowledging his transgression, then he was sorely mistaken.

"That is why…" Arzei took a deep breath and fixed Fayt with an apologetic stare. "That is why I cannot help you. You have my gratitude for exposing Vox as the bloodthirsty traitor he was, but what you're asking for, a mere _distraction_ as you flee at the cost of my soldiers, at the cost of _our people –_ that is something I'm unable to justify. Albel… Albel was right." He looked down at his hands and clasped them to steel his resolve.

"He asked what good would this conference bring, if not more fighting and bloodshed? But I was naive and hopeful, swayed by guilt and promise." At this, Arzei let out a humourless chuckle and shook his head. "Perhaps he would make a wiser king than I."

Fayt's chair screeched against unrelenting stone as he stood. "But, your majesty –"

"We're done here."

Arzei stood from his seat and turned to address his escort. "Let's go home."

Albel smirked. "As you wish."

But before Arzei could get far, a pale and delicate hand shot out to grasp his wrist, stilling his movements. A hush fell over the room, as all party members visibly stiffened at the discourteous display, awaiting the ensuing response with bated breath. If it were any other common folk or low-ranking official, they would have been swiftly dealt with for daring to lay a finger on Airyglyph's King. However, this was no ordinary person, and even Albel dared not raise his _katana_ against them.

"I once knew a wise king, who said that to help an enemy is to make a friend, and to offer kindness without question or profit, makes one a ruler of their pride," said Romeria, her calm and resolute tenor ringing clear across the silent room. Her piercing red eyes met Arzei's troubled ones. "Those weren't foolish words then, and they aren't foolish words now."

He swallowed thickly. "Romeria…"

"My dear Arzei, Fayt and his friends are my guests; we are indebted to them, and to refuse them now after welcoming them would be improper, cruel and deceitful – more so, when they need our help." Romeria's fingers slid from the king's wrist to gently take his hand. "We have the capacity to help them. _Please_ help them."

She raised her head so that they were staring deep into each other's eyes – Romeria's beseeching and Arzei's doubtful. "The first step to overcoming your mistakes is to acknowledge them; the second, is not to run away and hide, so that another would not happen in its place."

Arzei took pause and hesitated. A sea of wide, pleading eyes, hopeful yet uncertain, stared at him: the prime minister and his counsel; the queen and her escort; and the very foreigners in question. Maria had risen from her seat, Cliff and Mirage hovering over her like bodyguards; and Fayt… Fayt remained cautiously optimistic. This was the leader of a military superpower after all; Airyglyph didn't exactly leave a very good first impression on him. However, his rigid posture began to relax the moment the king's benevolent gaze fell upon him.

"Leingod," Arzei whispered.

 _Could it be?_

"Leingod, I…"

Fayt's gaze followed Arzei's, as the latter momentarily looked down at his and Romeria's interlocked hands. Time slowed to a nauseating crawl. Fayt could feel his own heart hammering relentlessly in his throat. He dared not believe it.

 _Is the king really considering…?_

But the moment was lost and he had been mistaken.

Arzei sighed and released the queen's hand, and Romeria watched it fall to her side in mounting dread and disappointment. The ministers' ears flopped dejectedly; Nel's expression fell; and Albel simply looked away. Fayt stared at Airyglyph's ruler in shock, but Arzei returned that look with a remorseful one of his own. How could he make them understand? This was not their fight to begin with.

"I'm sorry, Leingod, but I cannot–"

Suddenly, a violent tremor rocked the walls and high ceilings, rattling the foundation beneath their feet. Fayt stumbled forward from the force and quickly caught himself against the stone table, but another soul-shaking jerk of the massive fortress around them – more powerful than the last – soon had the Earthling sprawled on the floor with the others. Moreover, the deafening ' _Boom!'_ that accompanied those quakes definitely did _not_ sound good.

"What the hell… an earthquake? _Really_?" Cliff groaned as he struggled to stand. The ground tipped dangerously under his feet.

"But Elicoor II has no tectonic activity!" Fayt argued.

"Then explain this, genius!"

Fayt's mind raced; none of this could be possible, but the cracking stone walls, broken glass, fallen furniture and panicked shrieks around them said otherwise. A quick look at the ceiling indicated they did not have much time; the cracks grew longer, ran deeper, and even the walls looked like they were starting to cave in. Their surroundings tipped violently; windows became sky and walls became ground; and doors were hard to reach. Everything had gone all topsy-turvy. The whole scene reminded Fayt of a classic literature novel Sophia liked so much: _Alice in Wonderland,_ or something to that extent. A broken stained-glass window revealed a world of confusion and noise. It was chaos outside: boats and other flying vessels zipped past, narrowly dodging falling buildings, debris, and crumbling islands that moved –

 _Wait a minute, moved?_

An uneasy feeling gripped Fayt's heart like a vice. Surferio had no typical _land_ to begin with and the last time he checked, none of the floating islands could actually move at all. In other words…

"The kingdom's sinking."

" _Malroy!"_ Aznor yelled over the din. "Get the doors, hurry!"

The Fellpool acted quickly, swiftly bounding across the room and using his claws to scale the walls, until he was able to trigger a switch. An emergency passage sprang open and the prime minister wasted no time in barking his next orders.

"Get to the landing! We need to evacuate this building, _now_ ," Aznor commanded, before directing his gaze at a disoriented Nel and Albel standing protectively over their frightened charges. "Zelpher, Nox, get the king and queen to safety! We'll bring up the rear."

* * *

"Good God, Aznor! What in the world's going on?" Arzei demanded, as they ran through the dark, rumbling passageway. He had Romeria pressed protectively against his side, while Albel and Nel secured the path up ahead. "Is the Lost City falling? How is this happening?!"

"The Sacred Orb…" whispered Nerissa, deeply unsettled.

"The what?"

"The Sacred Orb," Elder Roland repeated, coughing from the dust and struggling to keep up. "It is the core of Surferio and the very heart of Gaitt. It is the waters that flow from the Lost City to Aquaria and Airyglyph through rivers and down mountain tops. It is the grain we feed from our crops and trees. It is the fish and animals that roam our lands and make this place home. It is our people, our ancestors, our history and future. It is the magic that flows through our veins. It is life itself."

"You mean that doohickey in the old castle spewing green stuff into the air?" asked Cliff incredulously.

"That's the one," replied Malroy, though he didn't take too kindly to the blonde's crude description of their most sacred and revered artefact. "And that 'green stuff' is what's keeping this city afloat and the rest of Gaitt alive, so I'd show a lil' more respect if I were ya!"

"Does it really hold that much power?" asked Fayt with a curious frown. Considering this planet's level of technological development, it was hard to believe something as trivial as an orb could contain the very mysteries of life itself.

"Indeed," Romeria spoke up suddenly and her profound knowledge took the ministers by surprise. "An old book excavated from under _Arias_ centuries ago, titled 'The Sacred Orb's Blessing', elaborates on the powers of the Orb and its gifts to the old Kingdom of Aquor." She paused to recite the ancient text:

"Handed to the people of Aquor by Apris, the Sacred Orb houses great power and its true purpose is unknown. The waters that flow from the Sacred Orb mix with springs to become a river. The pure water drives away evil and nurture grain, fish, animals and all creatures. Without the blessing of these divine waters, Aquor and all its cities would have never flourished. As one of Aquor's three greatest treasures, the Sacred Orb, together with the Aqua Veil and Crimson Scourge, have the power to move the heavens and the earth."

The queen's words, although inspiring, left a deep, unsettling feeling in Maria's gut. _The heart of this world, huh? Interesting._ She took out her quad scanner and adjusted its sensitivity. Just as she suspected, the high energy readings matched the ones that she picked up on the surface right before they entered Surferio, but they were stronger this time and more erratic. Furthermore, its form kept shifting – that wasn't normal for any physical matter; after all, when these people said 'orb', the immediate conclusion one would make would be its concrete properties.

An object of immeasurable power with an inconclusive form of unknown origin; she could only think of one thing.

"It's an OPA."

Mirage gasped, "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"What's an OPA?"

Maria looked up and found herself staring straight into piercing violet eyes that judged more than inquired. She had been so distracted with her findings, she failed to notice they had safely made it out of the Sacred Hall and onto the landing. Nel placed her hands on her hips and studied Quark's leader intently, as did the other Elicoorians.

"Well, what is it? If you've got more secrets to hide, don't start now."

Maria sighed through her nose. "It's what we call an out-of-place artifact, or OPA for short," she patiently explained, while pocketing her quad scanner. "OPAs are objects that are far too technologically-advanced for its planet of origin. Whether you believe this Sacred Orb of yours is a gift from the gods or otherwise, it still doesn't change the fact that its power is unfathomable."

An explosion sounded a few ways off and the force rocked the precarious piece of land they were on. Maria fought to stabilize herself and gritted her teeth. "I'm guessing someone moved it from its pedestal."

"And it has nothing to do with you fools, I presume?" Albel snarked. He was immediately interrupted by Fayt, who looked like he was doing everything in his power not beat the Glyphian's irritating face into the ground.

"Oh, _sure._ We knew all about the orb and its power and wanted it for ourselves, that's why we took it while we're _still in the city!_ " Fayt snapped.

Albel rolled his eyes. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you, worm. Try not to strain yourself."

"Well, maybe if you if used some logic, I wouldn't have to resort to sarcasm," Fayt countered.

"Logic? That coming from a second-rate swordsman."

"Who _beat_ you."

"That's enough!" Nel quickly inserted herself between the two men and pushed them apart before things could escalate. The two rivals continued to glare at each other over her head and she resisted a groan. _Men._

"Now's not the time. We're _sinking_ and if we don't figure out something soon, we're all going to–"

A gust of wind whooshed past, sending their robes and hair fluttering. A giant silhouette towered over the group: tall masts, taut shrouds, great white sails and all; but before anyone could comment on what a _ship_ was doing all the way out here, someone whistled and a small brown head popped out over the rails.

"What're ya guys standin' around fer? The whole city's gonna go under!" Roger shouted over the roaring winds and crumbling earth.

The whole group gazed up at their unlikely saviour in a mixture of shock and relief; even Cliff looked happy to see him. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for the boy's own father.

"Roger, I thought I told you and your mother to go back to the village," Aznor boomed, though his fury could not quite mask his underlying fear. "This isn't like the isolation policy; you could be killed! Twice you've disobeyed me and twice you - "

" _Saved_ yer life," Roger finished with an defiant stare. "Look, pops, we'll discuss my punishment later, ok? Right now, we gotta get everyone ta the surface. Some fishface morons infiltrated Castle Aquor and took out all our guards. The whole city's being evacuated." With a heave, he tossed down a rope ladder. "Here, climb on! The magic's fading and I don't know how much longer this ship will be able ta stay up!"

Aznor cursed under his breath, but knew better than to argue at a time like this.

"Fine, his and her majesty first."

Arzei helped lift Romeria up the ladder, before making the climb himself. Nel was next, followed shortly by Albel, and then the four ministers. However, when it got to Fayt's turn, the swordsman hesitated; and the moment his fingers touched the rough rope, he seemed to reach a decision with himself and he stepped away from the ship. Wide, confused brown eyes sought his gaze frantically.

"F-Fayt? What're ya doin'?" Roger asked, voice pitching in apprehension. As much as he tried to deny it, Roger knew that look all too well: Fayt was planning something, something undeniably crazy; and when the older male still refused to answer him, Roger stomped his foot and released a warning growl. " _Quit foolin' around and get on the ship, ya big dummy!_ "

A gloved hand shot out to yank the dazed swordsman around.

"What're you doing?!" Maria yelled and gestured wildly around them. "In case you haven't noticed, this place is on its last legs and - " But whatever else she wanted to say died in her throat when Fayt caught both her wrists in his hands and held her with his gaze. Emerald met emerald; there was a fire burning in Fayt's eyes that she had never seen before and its passion gripped her. Their faces were so close, she flushed and had to suppress a shudder. Dr. Leingod's son really was an interesting character.

"Didn't you hear him? The Vendeeni are here," said Fayt with so much self-hatred and loathing, Maria didn't even have the heart to stop him when he released her to stare out in the direction of the old castle, a monument of smoke and stone in the distance. Thick tendrils of grey-black smoke rose into the air in place of the Sacred Orb's green glow and golden faerie dust.

"Dammit, they must have followed us here and stumbled upon the orb!" He pulled away from Maria to stare out in the direction of Castle Aquor, the gears in his head turning as he mapped out the quickest path to take amidst the destruction. "Even if we do escape, they'll steal the Sacred Orb and the whole of Gaitt will die – all because of me." He squared his shoulders in determination. "I won't let them."

Maria resigned to her fate with a sigh. Why did Fayt have to be right about these things? She was already regretting her decision before she made it.

"... Fine, then I'm coming with you." She loaded and cocked her gun. "We're the only ones on this planet with the technology to stop them anyway. You'll need backup."

"Alright then!" Cliff grinned and cracked his knuckles. "I was wondering when you guys would say that. Frankly, I've been meaning to give those Vendeeni scum a piece of my mind after what they did at Aire Hills."

Mirage smiled sweetly at her two charges. "Did you really think Cliff and I would let you guys have all the fun?"

But a certain Aquarian had to disagree.

"That's insane!" Nel cried. "How are you even going to _get_ to Castle Aquor?"

"That's easy." Cliff indicated at a few shifting isles a few ways off. "We'll use those moving rocks. Their pliability should give us enough room to manipulate their movements, before the foundation completely collapses on itself."

"God dammit, Cliff, are you listening to yourself?! You get on this boat right now, or I swear to Apris I'll drag you up here myself!"

The Klausian chuckled, but the usual mirth was disturbingly absent. "Sorry, babe, but I'm the kid's bodyguard and where he goes, I go. Even if he's bat-shit crazy and has a death wish."

Nel was torn between feeling worried and uncomfortably upset.

" _You–_ "

A small hand shot up to signal for silence.

"Nuttin's gonna change yer mind, huh?" Roger interrupted in a hollow voice as he regarded Fayt with sad eyes. They were filled with bitter understanding, of begrudging acceptance, like he knew nothing he said could shake the swordsman's faith, because he loved and knew Fayt so well and that trust would be his own undoing.

"Don't worry, Maria and I got this."

But it still hurt.

"Then ya better make it up ta me fer the rest of ya life," said Roger with a hopeless smile. "Cross yer heart?"

Fayt did just that. "And hope to die."

Roger watched the pair run off to join the two Klausians ahead, and his smile fell. He offered up a silent prayer to Apris.

 _Be safe._

The ship turned and sped off toward the city exits.

* * *

The further they flew, the more obstacles lay in their path. Islands, which once housed various homes and establishments, were no longer recognizable. Land came off in chunks of earth and rock – boulders, rubble and jagged spikes. Building foundations collapsed; trees uprooted and crashed down into the waters miles below; vessels lost their magic and sank beneath the waves in a pile of broken wood and rusted gears; and Roger worried that they would be next. Even now, he could feel the life draining from his ship: the steering wheel felt hard and unforgiving in his grasp; the sails sagged and lost their brilliant shine; and the entire vessel grew heavy, sluggish and less responsive with every second. It was getting harder to avoid the falling debris, which crashed noisily around them like an ominous orchestra. The ship's music, once a gentle and soothing melody, chimed with distress and off-key chords, echoing the peril that surrounded them.

Roger gritted his teeth and pushed on like a sailor in a raging storm.

 _Just a lil more…_

They were steadily coming up to the city entrance. He could see the ship entry port (now completely destroyed save its 'welcome' signboard that was barely hanging on) and the revolving stairs that led to the surface. A guard positioned at the base of the stairs spotted their vessel and waved them over frantically; it was the last functioning staircase that held on amidst the destruction. Unfortunately, there was no proper port to dock at and they had to make a jump for it.

"I'll man the ship," Roger called out, keeping a tight grip on the wheel. "Yer majesties go first!"

Romeria stood shakily on the ship's edge and looked up. The guard motioned her over with his hands encouragingly. It was a long way down. One false move, one misstep and it would be all over. Her legs shook; the gap seemed wider than when she last looked, but closing her eyes wouldn't do. So, she gathered her skirts, took a deep breath and leapt off the edge – and immediately felt strong arms catch her when the Fellpool soldier pulled her to safety. Arzei followed soon after, the king faster and much more stable on his feet. Romeria clung on the moment he crossed over and he held her close, offering her whatever comfort he could.

"Next, the ministers! But ya guys gotta speed things up!"

Elder Roland jumped first; the old bunnyman barely making it if not for Arzei's quick reflexes. Next was Nerissa, then Malroy, before the latter quickly turned to grab Aznor's arm to yank his friend onto the ledge. Finally, Aznor turned to beckon Roger over.

"Come on, son!"

"Roger, I'll keep her steady," said Nel, forcing herself between the Menodix and the steering wheel. She took hold of it and pushed him away. "Go!"

"But–" Roger made to protest, but Nel silenced him with a stern look.

"You're the Prime Minister's son. If any harm befalls you, there _will_ be consequences." Her expression softened at the sight of Roger's tear-filled eyes. "Don't worry about me, I'll be alright," she soothed and gave him a gentle shove. "Now, go."

Roger gave her a lingering stare, nervous and afraid, but all he could do was trust the Aquarian and pray that there was enough magic in the vessel to last for a few more minutes.

The ship creaked dangerously as he scurried across the deck and climbed onto the rails. The vessel gave a slight jerk and shudder as more magic was depleted and even less remained. Roger almost lost his footing and clung onto the mast nearby for support. His heart skipped a beat. One second too slow and he would have been lost to the great unknown below.

And then, all of a sudden, he felt the vessel start to sink like a deflating hot air balloon and his heart beat faster. _No time._ Looking out at his father's wide and desperate eyes, arms outstretched and ready to catch him, Roger crouched and got ready to jump –

"The engine's dead!"

His feet slipped under him and he missed the landing. Ropes snapped and the sails whipped haphazardly in the wind. The steering wheel rebelled against Nel's failing grasp, spinning out of control. The ship's engine gave one final gasp and gravity seized it. Roger's fingers slipped from his father's. Aznor screamed for his boy. Albel shot forward to catch and pull Roger close as they fell further from salvation. And then, with a loud ominous groan, the dead vessel capsized and fell out of sight, taking Roger, Nel and Albel along with it.

* * *

Roger screamed as he hurtled through the air, his small body doing wild flips in a desperate attempt to find some form of leverage – something solid, _anything –_ in the wide-open nothingness. His fight-or-flight instincts kicked into overdrive, all four limbs and tail reaching out to find purchase on every solid boulder, every branch of an uprooted tree, and every broken piece of abandoned vessel that fell past. And that was when he spotted it: a small piece of land that was still afloat, fast-approaching. He stretched his fingers towards it and was filled with a sense of utmost relief when he made contact with its sturdy surface.

 _Got ya!_

Unfortunately, his grip wasn't strong enough and his heart sank the moment his fingers slipped–

" _Roger!_ "

A fair hand shot out and caught his smaller one like a vice. Roger gasped and gazed up at his savior, never more relieved to see the familiar face of the beautiful Aquarian. Nel's face was scrunched up in pain and determination; lying flat on her stomach, while her upper body hung over the beaten bedrock's edge, desperately clinging on to the one person who mattered the most to her in the entire world. She couldn't let Roger die on the ship then; she most definitely wouldn't allow him to die now, not on her watch.

"Nel!"

"Don't worry, I got you!"

But she stopped short when she felt more than heard the vibrations of another 'earthquake'. Nel's eyes widened in panic when the island they were on began to tilt to one side at an alarming speed – the very side that they were on. She kicked out with her feet and scrambled to find purchase with her free hand, but it was no use; she was sliding head first off the edge together with Roger, until the ground left them completely.

 _No!_ She couldn't fail again like how she failed her father and Clair. For _once_ Apris, please grant her this wish: if she couldn't save herself, then at the very least may death spare the boy's soul. She did not have much to really live for; the war had taken away most of her reasons to carry on and fight, save one. Roger was the only family she had left.

 _Apris, please hear my prayer._

They fell further. Nel reached out to the heavens in a silent plea.

 _No, no, please–_

And a purple-clothed arm surged forward to grab her hand tightly, muscles straining beneath the fabric to support hers and Roger's body weight against the merciless pull of gravity. Nel's heart soared. Never before did she feel this relieved to see a former enemy's face.

"Albel!"

The Glyphian swordmaster gritted his teeth in pain, his good arm shaking from the strain as he refused to let them go. His claw dug into the island's edge, but even its piercing metal grip was slipping from the combined weight of three and Albel felt as though his arm would surely be torn right off. The three of them dangled precariously off the edge, a human chain held together by faith, desperation and sheer will, against a crumbling world around them.

" _Hang on!_ " Albel growled, crimson eyes narrowing as he struggled to find a way out of their predicament. His arm under his gauntlet would surely break at this rate.

Nel scoffed. "Not like we have a choice!"

"Now's _not_ the time, wrench!"

Exasperation did not even come close to describing the look on Roger's face at the sound of their bickering. Old habits die hard, he supposed; even in the face of danger.

Roger quickly accessed his surroundings and immediately spotted an abandoned golden sailboat at the edge of a cliff a good few meters away. Its surface still glistened with life and the sails appeared sturdy. However, they needed to act fast, least the cliffside it was on, went too.

"Guys, I have an idea, but we need ta time this right," Roger called out to his company, while studying the shifting crusts overhead. He retrieved his claw weapon from within his overalls with his free hand. It was still a work-in-progress and he hadn't exactly tested it with human mass before, but it would have to do.

"Albel, on my signal, let go of the ledge!"

"We'll die, fool!"

"Trust me!" Roger held up his weapon and took aim at a sinking platform diagonally on top of them. "Whatever ya do, don't let go of each other's hands."

The isle came into sight, its current height forming a perfect trinity with the sailboat's cliffside and their current position. Roger could only pray that he got the angle and calculations right. With that, he pulled the trigger and watched the large, piercing claw shoot out and dig into the isle's underside like a giant grappling hook. The thick cord turned taut upon contact.

" _Now!_ "

Albel let go with a cry and the three of them sailed through the air, swinging from one island to another. The momentum was impeccably calculated and the moment Albel's feet grazed the new surface, he quickly planted his boots firmly into the dirt and turned to grab Nel, who grabbed Roger, who released the claw. They tumbled onto the ground in a tangle of limbs and pained groans, with Albel getting the unfortunate brunt of it all.

"Get. Off. Me," he growled threateningly, but none responded, too tired and disoriented to care about the Glyphian's empty threats. How they survived all that was a miracle in itself.

Roger was the first to disentangle himself, before rushing over to inspect the abandoned sailboat. It was an archaic model of foreign design dating roughly three or so centuries ago – and judging by its gears and mechanics under the haul, its level of technology was something that would have definitely been well ahead of its time. _Must be an old Greeton vessel,_ Roger thought as he scanned the mainframe. He had heard stories about how Greeton soldiers invaded the capital using flying ships. This must have been one of them left behind after the war. Thankfully, the mechanics didn't look too complicated to kick-start and operate; just some basic physics and engineering.

"Ok, the good news is this boat doesn't rely on the Sacred Orb's powers ta fly."

"And the bad news?" asked Nel with a skeptical frown.

"It needs a Captain," Roger replied, pointing at the open haul. "I need ta be down there ta manually calibrate the clockwork mechanism, so someone else needs ta steer. Problem is, this vessel's pretty old and can't handle too many hits. Whoever flies this thing needs ta be able ta skillfully navigate through all, well – he gestured at the falling City – _that._ "

For a while, no one said anything; then an unlikely voice broke the silence.

"A worthy challenge," said Albel with a smirk. He stepped up to the bridge and confidently took hold of the steering wheel. There was a wild glint in the wicked one's eyes – the kind he got at the start of every battle, or before decimating an enemy in a pool of their own blood.

Roger shrugged. "Oh well, works fer me!" Then, he pried open the gearbox to start tinkering with the old engine controls.

" _You?_ " Nel folded her arms and shot Albel an incredulous stare. "Since when do you know how to drive a ship? In case it hasn't occurred to you, we're in the middle of a _collapsing_ civilization and we can't get hit even _once._ "

However, all she got in return was a wide, shit-eating grin from the Glyphian in question. Nel didn't know which was worse: having to cooperate with Albel Nox to escape inexplicable doom, or bearing with his cockiness, which she was beginning to realize rather quickly how _aggravating_ it could be – and Albel hadn't even _said_ anything.

"Ok, Albel, engage half capacity the moment ya hear a loud bang," came Roger's voice from the lower deck.

"Bah! If you thought Airyglyph's military training was restricted to land and air combat, then you're sorely mistaken," said Albel as he unhinged and pulled a lever next to the wheel until its midway point, like the entire process was second nature to him. The timing was perfect and the vessel started up; sails unfurled themselves; and they began their ascent into the air.

"As – he growled detestfully beneath his breath – _former_ Captain of the Black Brigade, it was my duty to ensure that all my men were prepared to defend Airyglyph from any threat or possible invasion, including those from the sea," he explained, skillfully turning the small vessel around in the direction of their intended destination. "Furthermore, Aquaria's back faces the East Ocean." Albel paused to sneer down at the stunned Aquarian mockingly. "I bet you never considered that possibly during the war, did you, High Commander?"

Just then, a loud explosion rocked the air and all three heads whipped around to locate the source of that disturbance. It came from Castle Aquor and even at a distance, one could easily make out thick black tendrils of smoke rising from the turrets and windows, along with the rapid flashes of blinding red light. Roger's heart skipped a beat and a cold, sinking feeling coiled at the base of his gut. Surferio was still sinking and there was no sign of Fayt and the others. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

"Fayt's in there," he whispered to himself, before fear and desperation seized him and he turned his attention to Nel and Albel at the bridge. "Fayt's in there with a bunch of Vendeeni soldiers and he needs our help! I don't know what the heck's goin' on in there, but we gotta _do_ something!"

Screw what happened last night and screw Maria. He loved Fayt with all his heart and he'd be damned if he allowed the swordsman to die right under his nose without a fight.

"Albel, turn this boat around."

"Silence, fool." Said man met the boy's determined stare with an equally stubborn one of his own. "Those maggots made the choice to go after the orb, even after knowing full well the risks it would entail. I'm getting us to the surface in one piece, because I for one have no intention of dying on this miserable death trap."

"Albel…" Nel started, but the Glyphian cut her off.

"Zelpher, I don't care if you have feelings for that blonde buffoon of yours, or if your stupid religion automatically makes you a saint," said Albel with a glare. "But _I_ have a responsibility to my King and Airyglyph, and I can't do that if I'm dead. What about you?"

Nel bit her lip and avoided his stare, but knew deep down that Albel was right. Their mission and duty to the throne came above everything else, including personal feelings and sentiment. Moreover, they had to protect Roger; willingly endangering the Prime Minister's son of the Sanmite Republic had political consequences for Aquaria and Airyglyph, especially right now that all three nations shared a temporary truce. She owed Fayt a great deal for his help both before and during the war, and by all means she was eternally grateful; but her Queen and people came first, they always have. So, with a nod of her head, Nel moved forward to grab the ropes and tighten the sails.

Albel watched the Aquarian work with an unreadable expression. He supposed there was something admirable about her grit and morals. Albel returned his focus to the task at hand and quickly scanned their environment. It would be one hell of a ride, but their vessel was small and lightweight; they could make it. He tightened his grip on the wheel and inched the lever forward…

"Albel…" Roger's small, miserable voice pierced the air and went straight to the ex-Captain's heart. The Menodix was struggling with himself and even though his hands never left the complicated gears and switches of the boat's mainframe, they shook from the emotional pain.

"Turn back! Please, I… A-Albel… Fayt, he…he..."

But Albel forced himself to ignore him and Roger swallowed in a bid to calm his emotions. Unfortunately, they were all over the place, thoughts of Fayt seriously injured or dying flashed through his mind and before he knew it, he was sobbing openly and screaming at the top of his voice.

"Albel, please! I love him!"

It was heartbreaking to see Roger, the usually loud, over-confident and self-proclaimed 'Man of all men', reduced to this broken state – and all because of a 19-year-old warrior from the stars. And just like that time at the Kirlsa Training Facility, Albel could feel the boy's emotions so strongly – his fear, desperation, despair and grief – and it _hurt_. It hurt so much, it was hard to breathe. Roger's pain was different from what Shelby had put him through, more paralyzing in fact, because unlike an instinctual need to protect and retaliate, Albel felt agony from a truth he had known all along but refused to acknowledge. The pain he felt from Roger's heartbreak was nothing compared to the pain he felt in his own heart from the boy's confession. Why did another deserve his love and not him?

" _I love him!"_

Why did it have to be fucking Leingod?

His grip on the steering wheel shook.

"... Fine."

Roger's eyes widened in surprise and Nel's jaw dropped. Could it be? Had Albel actually changed his mind? Had he perhaps developed a moral conscience?

"But know this, little fool," Albel continued, as he powered the vessel to full capacity and steered them in the direction of Castle Aquor. "I'm not doing this for him."

* * *

Fayt backed up until he felt Cliff's stiff and muscled back hit his. Similarly next to him, Maria had hers against Mirage's. Each of them had their weapons out and enough fight in them to keep going, but they were surrounded and hilariously, painfully outnumbered about 4:1. It was maddening: no matter how many Vendeeni soldiers they slayed and laid to waste at their feet, more kept coming – quite literally, because the sneaky bastards had a transporter set up and an endless supply of soldiers at the snap of their leader's fingers… _fins._ It was a lost cause from the start.

Maria mentally cursed their situation and her lack of foresight. _Of course Biwig would prepare backup._ The elite Vendeeni commander was as cautious as he was incredibly sly. It was obvious the Sacred Orb meant a lot to him if he was willing to send down an entire army just to stop them from interfering. She eyed Fayt from the corner of her eye with a despairing frown. If only he could control his powers; the Vendeeni would be nothing but dust in the wind by now, and the orb could be safely restored to its proper place on the pedestal. Alas, all they had were her powers of alteration – and shields and buffs did little to alleviate their situation, save buy them more time.

"Why are you doing this?!" Fayt demanded hotly, his past fear of the Vendeeni, which haunted his nightmares, now nothing but a distant memory. Rage and exasperation were all that were left. "If you take that orb, this whole planet and all the life in it will die!"

"Honestly, do you even think I care?" Biwig drawled and if amphibians could roll their eyes, he would. "All I know is, if I have you and this OPA, I'll be invincible; the Pangalactic Federation won't be able to lay so much as a finger on me and the Vendeeni will finally win this war – no, supreme universal conquest!" He cradled the Sacred Orb in one fin and pointed his blaster at Maria and her crew. "Now then, I'll have to ask Doctor Leingod's son to come with us. He's given me enough trouble after – _annihilating an entire fleet of my finest soldiers!_ "

Biwig's rage was apparent as it echoed off the walls of the chamber, but it did nothing to shake the group's conviction. Maria stepped in front of Fayt protectively.

"Over my dead body!"

"Gladly!"

Biwig cranked up his blaster to full power and fired straight at the party of four. The gunslinger reacted swiftly.

"Reflection!"

A glimmering forcefield materialized around them, deflecting the blast completely, but left a crack in its wake. Still, it served its purpose, but who knew for how long.

"Damn it, old fish-face is toying with us," Cliff observed, as he hovered protectively over the party's two youngest. "All he needs to do is order his men to hit us with sustained fire for less than 30 seconds, and we're screwed over."

"What should we do?" asked Mirage, worry filling her words. "If we stay in here, we're dead. If we leave this shield, we're dead."

"Doesn't look like very good odds, huh?"

Biwig cackled. "Last chance, Quark. Hand over the boy and I might consider letting you go. Y'know, as one anti-federation group to ano–"

"Ya sure like hearin' the sound of yer own voice, don't ya, fish breath?"

All heads turned to locate the source of that unexpected interruption. There, atop the transporter, sat a very smug looking Roger, twirling his axe. He grinned and did a sign of a gun with his fingers at the sputtering Vedeen commander.

"Ya know what yer problem is? Ya guys don't play fair." His fingers grazed the edge of his blade and it gleamed under the light. "This oughta even the odds!" He then jumped up and brought down his axe on the transporter, splitting it right down the center. Sparks flew as the machine shut down completely. Roger raised his axe at the Vendeeni Commander in warning.

"Fayt's not goin' anywhere, and whoever thinks otherwise, will hafta go through us!"

"Alright! Now _that's_ what I call an entrance," Cliff cheered while punching a fist into the air. "Huh, never thought I'd be this happy to see the little pipsqueak."

However, not everyone shared Cliff's enthusiasm. Fayt's expression was a complicated mixture of shock, relief, joy and horror. _Roger? No! He shouldn't even_ _ **be**_ _here!_ The boy should have been on that ship safe and sound, away from any immediate danger, sailing away with–

Fayt paused and blinked slowly. _Wait a minute, 'us'?_

"Ice daggers!"

A slew of piercing icicles sliced through the air and penetrated the two Vendeeni soldiers standing at Biwig's sides. The attack was as swift as it was deadly; they were frozen solid in seconds; and another rain of icicles was all it took to completely shatter their bodies into tiny pieces.

Nel emerged from the shadows and unsheathed her daggers, a mysterious smirk playing across her lips.

"Sorry for cutting in," she said, but the slightest hint of venom in her voice clearly indicated she felt otherwise, "but I think you've outstayed your welcome here long enough. Our friends and the orb aren't going anywhere!"

Biwig screamed in outrage and gestured at his remaining men. "Kill them! _Kill them all!_ "

What followed soon after was a mad scramble for victory and survival. Lasers and pulse beams met cold, unrelenting steel; spells and symbology worked together in a symbiotic dance to push the enemy back; and without the transporter at their disposal, the Vendeeni were quickly beginning to realise that they no longer had the upper hand. Fayt, Maria, Cliff and Mirage appeared to have gotten their morale back and together with Roger and Nel, were making quick work of Biwig's cronies. The discrepancy between the two parties' skill level and combat prowess grew more apparent by the minute and the longer the battle drew out, the more Biwig's patience grew thin.

"Idiots! Can't you do anything right?! They're just a bunch of backwater insects– _Urk!_ "

A burning sensation entered and spread throughout his chest; he tasted blood in his mouth and the stench of his own searing flesh. To so much as breathe was an agony in itself, but all that combined was less disturbing than the sight of a bloody metal claw puncturing straight through his own chest. Green liquid oozed from the claw into the gaping wound like a serpent coiling around its prey. Biwig's blood ran cold as he felt the poison spread and he dropped his weapon along with the Sacred Orb in shock.

"Humph, maggots with nothing better to say, shouldn't say anything at all."

The claw withdrew with the same blinding speed and force as it had entered. Biwig collapsed on the ground, gasping and wheezing pitifully like a fish out of water. Albel sneered down at the Vendeeni commander, wiping the blood off his claw on the uniform of a dead soldier he had pinned against a wall with his _katana._

"Normally, I don't waste my time on weaklings, but you've put me through quite the inconvenience and I _don't_ appreciate the travail." He retrieved his _katana_ and approached the injured Biwig with measured steps, like a cat cornering a struggling rat in its final moments. "Don't expect to die painlessly. I'll smash your face until you're begging me to kill you and get it over with."

Albel raised his sword and was about to bring it down on his victim, when he paused to bring his blade around to swiftly intercept and slash through an oncoming Vendeeni soldier thrown his way. The corpse fell apart; blood splattered on his cheek and he licked it away with a crazed look in his eyes.

"Watch what you're doing, Leingod!"

Fayt feigned innocence while casually propping his sword on his shoulder. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The hell you don't!"

Using that distraction, Biwig forced himself on his elbows and crawled towards the exit. Mentally, he cursed the sudden turn of events that had emerged in Quark's favor. Never mind the OPA; he needed to return to the _Dasvanu,_ get his wounds patched up and rethink his plan. If Leingod refused to come quietly, then he would just have to get his hands on the boy the old fashioned way. He activated a switch on his communicator and was beamed up in seconds.

* * *

"Hey, it's not _my_ fault you attract idiots."

"I will _carve_ that tongue from your _mouth_ and take great pleasure in watching you _bleed_!"

"Bring it on! I could _use_ a little sparring practice!"

It was truly amazing how Fayt and Albel could have a sustained argument, while simultaneously fending off Vendeeni soldiers armed with high-tech weaponry. The two swordsmen moved with expert grace and precision, ducking when the other moved upwards to slash an oncoming foe, and thrusting their blades in opposite directions to intercept attacks aimed for each other's blind spots. Ironically, for a pair of bitter rivals who hated each other's guts, the two men worked surprisingly well together, covering all the other's bases as they moved in perfect synch.

" _Move,_ worm. You're in the way!"

" _You're_ in the way!"

Meanwhile, a certain Menodix continued to watch them with a bemused smirk. _Those two really are summin',_ Roger thought with a shake of his head, before turning his keen eyes back to the battlefield, searching. _Now, where's that orb… aha!_ The silver sphere rolled across the floor between feet and fallen bodies. Everyone was too busy fighting to notice its presence and he saw it as the perfect time to strike.

"Come ta papa!" He scampered across the room; running, jumping and crawling past obstacles, lasers and between legs to close the distance. Distantly, he heard a faint buzzing in his head, but ignored it.

'Grab it and put it back, grab it and put it back,' he mentally recited to himself like a mantra, as he reached for the Sacred Orb. 'Almost… got it…'

"... rue the day you said that, worm!"

Fayt rolled his eyes at yet another classic Albel comeback and was about to throw the latter one of his own, when he noticed a startlingly familiar flash of brown and green at the corner of his eye. He quickly turned his head and felt his heart stop: Roger was halfway across the room, chasing the rolling silver sphere with his fingers outstretched.

 _No!_ This was why he volunteered to take care of the Vendeeni. This was why he didn't even want Roger to _be_ here. And apparently, he wasn't the only one who noticed this. Albel, after realizing his rival wasn't paying attention to his insults, stopped to stare too. Even Nel paused in mid-swing of her daggers, only to barely evade a pulse beam aimed her way from her opponent.

" _Roger… has always been different. My wife and I have known this for years now."_

Fayt dropped everything and sprinted after him.

" _There is a reason he's not part of this meeting and why my family lives in a village far away from the Lost City."_

Cliff drop-kicked his opponent at Mirage and ran after Fayt, swearing all the way. Damn brat didn't know a thing. Maria reacted quickly and cast _Angel Feather_ on the two to give them a little speed boost. Damn, when did things this complicated?

" _Well, you see, Roger…"_

The Menodix reached the Sacred Orb, a dazed look in his eyes. The pounding in his skull evened out into a dull and distant throb; the incessant buzzing now a soothing, seductive whisper. _Touch it,_ it breathed and like a puppet hanging from its strings, Roger heeded its call and moved..

" _... Roger almost killed us all."_

Fayt thrust his hand out and screamed.

"ROGER, NO!"

Roger grabbed it and the moment his fingers made contact against its smooth, cool surface, a searing pain exploded through his skull and set his whole body ablaze. Roger's eyes flew open and he screamed the most ear-piercing, heart-stopping agonizing scream they had ever heard – loud enough to shake mountains; eerie enough to send chills down one's spine. Fayt, Nel, Cliff and Mirage gazed on helplessly and experienced an uncanny sense of deja vu. It was just like that time back in Castle Aquios before the war, only this time, Roger was very much awake and not passed out in some bed, rendered unconscious from the effects.

A bright red aura engulfed Roger and entered his eyes, consuming the once sparkling and innocent brown pupils a horrifying, ominous glow. He saw nothing but a deep, never-ending darkness; then, visions of flashing memories that weren't his own; scenes and faces he did not recognize, yet felt vaguely familiar. And the moment he turned to face the worried faces of his friends and the confused expressions of his enemies, Roger was filled with a purpose that was both foreign and frightening to him, yet completely intuitive like an old memory buried deep within his consciousness. For the first time in his life, he felt complete; and when he next spoke, it was in a voice that was both his and not his own, of two consciouses sharing a soul, echoing after the other in unison.

" _ **You entities have upset the order and balance of this perfect world.**_ **"**

He turned his hollow, unseeing gaze to the Vendeeni, who predictably had their guns out and trained on him. His lips twitched in disdain.

" _ **For that, you will receive divine punishment for your transgressions."**_

Roger raised his hand, palm to the sky and like the rest of his body, it glowed a deep red. Power gathered at the center of his palm and immediately, every single Vendeeni soldier in the room found themselves bound by the mysterious red aura. It burned like someone had set fire directly to their veins, yet they could not move, could not speak, and had to watch on in silent dread as the deceiving child before them took in their fear and suffering with a wide, satisfied grin.

" _ **Star Fall.**_ **"**

Roger closed his hand into a fist and watched in glee as meteors and fireballs crashed through the ceiling to engulf the Vendeeni soldiers in flames. They screamed and thrashed in their bonds this time, the excruciating pain too much to bear – and in a blink of an eye, every single one of them disintegrated into thin air. Not a trace of them was left, not even ash.

Nel trembled as her hand shakily moved to conjure up a swirl of ice. Despite the scene she has just witnessed, worry and a deep-rooted love for the humanoid boy she viewed as her brother, filled her heart in place of fear. What in Apris had Aznor been hiding this whole time? It was frightfully unsettling. To possess the power to kill a dozen people simultaneously with a snap of his fingers… It wasn't human. This wasn't Roger. This wasn't the little boy she grew to love as a family. However, before she could so much as twitch her fingers for a quick disarming spell, the red aura seized her wrist abd threw her completely off rhythm. An aggravated hiss next to her revealed that Albel was in a similar situation; his good hand frozen over the hilt of his katana and claw rendered useless.

Roger turned to stare at the two Elicoorians with an exaggerated tilt of his head and a wry smirk.

" _ **Sorry, can't have you two interfering. I can't afford to have a conscience,"**_ he said with mock fondness and the bonds snapped tighter, making them gasp in its hold. Roger's eyes narrowed dangerously. _**"Time to severe the ties. Star– ARGH!"**_

A brilliant blue blast hit the Menodix square in his back and he dropped the Sacred Orb. The force of the blow caused the small boy to tumble a good distance across the room to smack painfully against a wall. He was out like a light in seconds and a pained frown marred his soft, innocent features – the only evidence that the past 15 minutes actually happened.

Five heads whipped around to stare at the source of that attack.

Panting heavily, Fayt lowered his hand and the swirling blue symbols around it and on his forehead – the very same ones that destroyed the Vendeeni battleship – dissipated. Ethereal wings folded into his back, only to disappear in a burst of light and swirl of white feathers. For a moment, nothing happened; none dared speak; and then like a ripple disrupting the stillness of a stream, with slow, measured steps, Fayt approached the unconscious Menodix with a calm certainty that left the others in complete awe.

Maria frowned as she watched the blue-haired swordsman's actions suspiciously, the gears in her head turning. _Interesting… very interesting._ Because unlike the last time his powers had manifested, it was apparent that Fayt knew exactly what he was doing and was in full control.

The Earthling crouched down to pick up the Sacred Orb and placed it back on its pedestal. Immediately, pure water and energy flowed from it once more, cleansing the castle and the world outside of it. A deep rumble resonated through the air, the ground trembled and turned lighter as it ascended to its original place in the sky. No doubt the rest of Surferio was restoring itself too, but that wasn't important right now – at least, not in terms of immediate concern.

Fayt stopped before Roger's vulnerable form and gently picked him up to cradle him like a precious babe. And just like that time in Castle Aquois, the moment his fingers made contact with Roger's heated skin, the angry red aura dissipated and a peaceful expression adorned the child's face. A similar expression crossed Fayt's features. It was over.

"I got you," Fayt whispered and placed a tender, lingering kiss upon Roger's brow. "It's me... I'm here."

 _I won't let you go._

Picking up his sword, Fayt kept his gaze trained forward as he carried the boy all the way out the old castle doors and never once looked back. Cliff, Nel, Maria, Mirage and Albel could do nothing save follow silently behind, a thousand questions running through their minds. They won, but victory never felt so meaningless.

 _To be continued..._

* * *

 **Author's note:**

I'm really sorry for the long wait, but this chapter was insanely difficult to write because of all the dramatic events going on and also that plot twist at the end! Yes, I did not forget all the things I previous set up in "The Stars Told Me So", so with high hopes, I hope they came through in the end... but it's not the end! Who or what is Roger, really? And is his connection to Fayt more than just emotional attraction? The mystery and plot thickens! Also, I hate Biwig and want to punch his face in like Albel does.


	6. Moving Forward

**Resonance of Faith**

 **by Darkinterval**

 **Chapter 6: Moving Forward**

* * *

"So, Roger again, huh?"

It was no surprise that none chose to dignify Cliff's statement with a response; after all, their little ragtag group barely survived the fall of an entire _civilization_ and had the unfortunate privilege of witnessing a rather brutal decimation of a technologically advanced alien superpower, all within the span of less than six hours. Not to mention, it was one of their own who was entirely responsible for the recent string of events – and no, it was not a certain physical manifestation of a weapon of destruction otherwise known as Fayt Leingod, but someone far less conspicuous, completely unexpected and not even old enough to actually cuss or drink. Suffice to say, no one was comfortable addressing the obvious elephant in the room; not even Fayt, who had his chin propped on his hand, as his other hand lovingly stroked the soft, unruly bangs of his young lover.

A deep concern and sorrow marred his handsome features, worn down and made older by days of brooding and complete neglect to his physical health. He hadn't moved, slept, spoken a word or eaten in three days – well, save a few biscuit crumbs Albel had threatened to shove down his throat after slicing said throat open. "Don't misunderstand, maggot. I don't give a bloody _damn_ about you or if you kill yourself, but if I have to listen to another _minute_ of that Aquarian wench's _yapping–_ " had been the Glyphian's explanation, but it was apparent that everyone was on edge and even _Albel_ – cruel, cold and generally intolerant – could suffer from anxiety. That, and he was not good with tight spaces.

This stasis, this state of utter helplessness and not knowing: it had to stop. But Roger wasn't waking up, and trying to talk to, much less _move_ Fayt from his bedside was like stupidly provoking a feral dragon and getting punished for it teeth, claws and all. Speaking to the Earthling was useless at this point. Everything pretty much flew over his head. However, that didn't stop the group from quite literally, talking over his shoulder.

"Well, it seems that whoever this boy is, he's able to trigger Fayt's powers," said Maria with a breath of frustration, curling a lock of blue hair around her finger, an unconscious habit. "But unlike the last time with that Vendeeni ship, Fayt was able to control it. He could hone that energy, focus on a single target and even retain consciousness after."

"No shit, Sherlock," Cliff made a pointed gesture at the boy's back. "Kid's a bloody champion and hasn't slept a wink since. But this isn't about Fayt, is it?"

He turned his head and shot Nel a knowing stare. The redhead had her eyes shut, arms folded, had been quiet for sometime. She kicked herself off the guest room wall with a sigh. Granted, they were in Castle Aquaria now, but even the soothing sound of flowing water and reverberations of the chapel choir did little to calm her nerves. She released a shaky breath.

"Eons ago, Aquor fell when Greeton attacked and tried to steal the sacred orb from its pedestal. What Roger doesn't know, is that Surferio almost fell a second time – and to make things clear, no, I'm not referring to three days ago."

"... He tried to touch the orb."

Five pairs of eyes swiveled to land on the unexpected source, one whom they had deemed a zombie to the world until a second ago. Fayt raised his head as he spoke, but never once turned around to face them, his attention still focused on the sleeping child beneath the covers.

"Nel," he whispered dangerously. "Why are we only hearing this now?"

She bit her lip. "Well…"

Suddenly, the chair Fayt had been sitting on flew across the room and crashed noisily against the stone wall. Everyone flinched, save Albel who raised an eyebrow in intrigue. The action wasn't meant to harm, but it was still a shocking sight to bear nonetheless.

"Why didn't you tell me about Roger earlier?! Why did you keep his past a secret?!" Fayt shrieked, bordering on hysterical. "If he never followed us to Surferio, _none_ of this would've happened! The city was falling. The Vendeeni attacked. I had to _hit_ him with something I apparently used to _destroy_ an entire Vendeeni _battleship._ He could've died!"

" _ **Because I didn't know!**_ "

Nel's scream was enough to shutdown Fayt's emotional tirade. The usually composed and dignified royal commander seemed to be losing her cool more and more in light of recent events; then again, this was Fayt Leingod, the most stubborn, impulsive and volatile guy in the galaxy, and history between them (despite how short they knew each other) showed that conflict was a norm rather than a rarity.

The ringing silence thereafter could only be described as nerve wrecking. Nel's eyes were as cold as ice as they bore into Fayt's accusing emerald stare, but her trembling fists at her sides spoke volumes of the real storm brewing inside. How _dare_ a foreigner lecture her on the safety and well-being of one of her own. Roger was her brother, her _family_ ; she had known and loved him longer than this strange, self-important swordsman from the stars. The only reason she bothered giving Fayt face at all, was because she owed him and (dare she say it) considered him a friend.

" _We_ had a meeting with her majesty, the king and prime minister," she explained, while shooting a certain silent ex-captain an irritated glare. "But it seems _some_ of us have problems remembering important details."

Albel snorted and looked out the window, barely concealing a wicked smile.

"The truth is, I only just found out yesterday," Nel continued with a rueful grimace. "I was 14 years old. I lost my father to the war and I wandered the land, an orphan with no purpose and no place to go. Then, I met Sir Huxley and his son. My only memory growing up was of a little humanoid boy growing up alongside me. We played together, looked out for each other, and got in trouble more times than I can count. Roger was a normal boy. Why should I expect anything different?"

They seemed to be squaring each other off: Fayt's gaze suspicious and Nel's posture resolute. When it seemed there was nothing further to gain from this conversation, Fayt let out a breath of frustration and averted his attention back to Roger on the bed. However, it was clear that his anger was not meant for Nel, but something far more elusive and inconceivable. The Aquarian gazed at him pityingly. Guilt and self-loathing. She understood those emotions all too well.

"Well, guess that explains the village inn side job," said Cliff, rubbing out the dull ache growing in his neck. "Put as much distance between the orb and the pipsqueak, and nobody gets hurt. Makes sense."

"Yes," said Nel. "Thankfully, he was only a toddler then and the Prime Minster was able to prevent things from escalating." At that, she frowned, "Roger's attracted to the Sacred Orb somehow, but it seems that attraction is far more fatal than we ever hoped to conceive."

"And Roger has no memory of this?" asked Mirage.

Albel gave a derisive snort. "If I could remember everything I did when I was 2, I'd be a goddamn saint."

Before anyone could retort, there was a hesitant knock on the door. The group stopped short, all eyes trained curiously to the fine wood. Was the Queen checking up on them?

It was Nel who muttered a quick, "Come in", but what they expected to be a guard or servant standing on the other side, instead turned out to be the squat, imposing figure of one Aznor Huxley. Sanmite's leader sported a face that could only be described as grim at best, solicitous at worst; his age made older by the sallow cheeks, dull grey eyes and the many creases that lined his forehead from stress, extensive late nights of back-and-forth deliberation and an incessant worry that desperately showed through. All eyes were on him, expectant, nervous, unsure, but nonetheless on edge; the growing sea of static enough to power a whole house. Aznor removed his monocle with a weary sigh. Good lord, where to begin?

"Leingod, walk with me. The King and Queen wish to speak with you and your friends."

That only earned him a skeptical frown from Fayt, who held his ground. His reservations had an influence on the rest it seemed, for none made any indication of wanting to leave the room. Aznor sighed again.

"It's about your request." And at Fayt's shocked expression, he dared to crack a smile. "I think, in light of recent happenings, you'd find us leaders far more reasonable and… open to bending the rules."

"Sir, you mean… you'll help us?"

"If you hurry."

Fayt's eyes found Maria's and she acknowledged him with a firm nod. He spared a lingering glance at the unconscious Menodix on the bed, hesitant. This would be his first time leaving the room since the incident. What if Roger woke up? He wanted to be there when the boy opened his eyes, be the first person he saw, hear his voice and kiss him out of love and sheer relief that everything was ok, that nothing had to change between them. But this was a breakthrough, a shift in direction. These people were finally willing to _listen_ and he could go save his father, the one thing that kept him going and sane enough to function despite all the craziness that has happened.

"Alright," he looked to the others, "let's hear what they have to say."

"I hope it's good news," Cliff muttered, as the group gathered their gear and began to file out of the cramped guest room.

"... Except you, Nox."

"What?"

Unflinching, Aznor stared the scary Glyphian down, which was quite a feat considering the dark and lanky ex-captain was at least twice as tall as him. Albel did not take kindly to discrimination on his person. The looming glare sent Aznor's way could only be described as murderous in its offense, but it had no effect on the hardened warrior, who met his stare head on.

"As his majesty's escort, your job ends here," said the Prime Minister in a tone that left no room for negotiation. "This meeting involves our guests and military representatives. I'm afraid you no longer hold that right. For now, or at least until Azeri is ready to return to Airyglyph, you're dismissed."

Albel glowered, the humiliation at being dismissed so callously in front of these people he deemed as fools, burned deep and struck his pride. But orders were orders, his king's word was law. He turned away with an indignant scoff, though not without having the last word.

"Bah! Try not to offend the hands that feed you, worm." And it was obvious who that comment was meant for. "You've already caused this miserable ball of dirt more trouble than it's worth."

Fayt was inclined to tell his rival to shove it and speak for himself, but he would be wasting time and rising to Albel's bait really was not worth it. For now, he ignored the blatant antagonism.

"Look after Roger for me. Tell a guard or something if he wakes."

Albel's lips parted, the start of an arrogant grin. "I don't have to answer to you, worm. You overestimate yourself. Your strength, your perseverance, your place. It's admirable to put the little fool's life before all else, but in such a situation, you forget you don't belong here and your time is almost up."

Fayt did not back down. He took a threatening step forward, but Maria's hand shot out and held him at bay. "Fayt, drop it. Let's go."

Something gleamed in Albel's vermillion eyes. Something insinuating. Claws from a gauntlet passed over the crown of Roger's head, smoothening back the longer pieces of his bangs as he stayed asleep.

"Hurry back."

There was a mocking tilt to his words. Fayt did not rise to the challenge; instead, he pivoted on his heel and stalked out the room, quiet and seething.

* * *

If anything, Fayt _really_ wished he did not need to be part of this meeting. However, he would sooner choke on his own saliva than admit he was envious of Albel's position or rather, _lack_ of position in the eyes of the political state. Everything about this conference felt all wrong: the atmosphere, the timing, the circumstances that inspired it. It was a difficult task to focus for. Fayt was not one for serious discussion anyway; they had Maria, Nel and Mirage for that (no offense, Cliff). But he had to cut his inner monologue short the moment the King's gaze fell on him.

Arzei straightened his posture against the conference chair, hands across the table, the weight on his shoulders not quite as severe as their previous session back at Surferio. Sanmite's ministers, Queen Romeria, and even Nel looked to him in reverence. It was clear who initiated this conference. Despite the accumulation of negative events, the King seemed strangely optimistic. And Fayt wondered why.

"I apologize for the delay," Arzei began. Tiredness thinly veiled his speech. "We needed to see to the repairs of Surferio, as well as reorganize our priorities. My soldiers are here, Airyglyph's air dragons roam the courtyards and Aquaria's runologists are doubling up as doctors. The Queen and I agreed that every help should be enlisted, that in times of war no cost is too great."

"And that's what this is," said Romeria, sweeping the room with her piercing red gaze, punctuating her speech with eyes that had seen far too much in such a short amount time. "War."

Maria raised an eyebrow, wary. "Am I to believe that this meeting is one built on hostility? That you called us here as some form of ultimatum?" As she said this, her hand wandered to the pulse gun strapped to her hip; but a hand clamped over hers, stilling her movements.

"Your majesty, please, if I may," Fayt interrupted as he bowed his head, guilt swarming through his chest once again. "It's really my fault that the Vendeeni came here in the first place. My powers… the lives lost… the near-destruction of an entire civilization… they never would've known about the Sacred Orb if it weren't for me. Surferio would've remained a peaceful city if we hadn't interfered. And Roger..."

Aznor shook his head and a look of understanding crossed his face. "You're wrong, my boy." His one good eye met Fayt's astonished ones. "At least, we all would've thought so, if it weren't for the brilliant insight of our king." The knowing smirk he flashed Arzei did not go unnoticed by the party. Airyglyph's ruler cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment for being called out so casually.

"I gathered from what you were saying before that there are many worlds like our own. And the Sacred Orb is an exceedingly rare and powerful object, an OPA, am I correct?"

"Yes, your majesty," answered Maria. "At least, there's no record of anything like it in the Federation's database."

Arzei chuckled and shook his head. "Honestly, I don't understand this 'Federation' of yours or what it means in the greater scope of things. But what I do know, most likely, someone would have come here seeking its power sooner or later. It just so happens that time is now – and I would rather disaster strike and be saved by the four of you, than to pay the price in the coming future." At this, Airyglyph's king smiled. "You have nothing to apologize for. I had greatly misjudged you and I was wrong. I see this now. If anything, our people– no, _we_ are grateful that you are here."

"Your majesty…"

The King's words surprised them, humbling above all else. They had expected slander, threats to their lives, or at the very least, stern admonishment – but not _this._ Not a _King_ foregoing his pride and going all out to thank them on the behalf of not just his nation, but others as well.

"So you see," Aznor picked up from where he left off, "Even though Surferio collapsed and you hit my son into a coma (Fayt frankly couldn't decide if Huxley senior was being flippant or sarcastic), everyone came out unscathed in the end and most importantly, _alive._ You risked your lives to face off against those Vendeeni and their strange weapons, when many of our soldiers would have perished."

"Which brings us to our next point," Romeria elaborated with a hint of concern. "Now that the Vendeeni have been defeated at Surferio, they have even more reason to attack our kingdoms. It's not just about you, Fayt Leingod, but our people have a stake in the matter as well. It would appear that the only option left is to work together."

Fayt took all this in slowly, unable to believe what his ears were actually hearing. "Y-You mean…"

"Yes," Arzei agreed, taking Romeria's hand in his and shared a meaningful look with Aznor, who nodded. "As leaders of the three founding bodies of Gaitt, we have decided… to grant you your request. Our kingdoms will help you escape and drive off the Vendeeni once and for all."

"But how will we do it?" asked Cliff, skeptical. "Fayt can't exactly control his powers; there's no way in hell we're giving the pipsqueak that orb again; and the only weapon that might have a shot on this planet isn't complete yet, much less possess the firing range to take down a battleship in the sky. What's the point of an attack that can't hit its target?"

Fayt crossed his arms and pondered their predicament. "That's a good question…"

Arzei cleared his throat, a reminder of his presence.

"You're forgetting who your allies are," he said, a mysterious twinkle in his eyes. "If you have the means to carry the Thunder Arrow, range wouldn't be a problem, correct? We may not have flying vessels that shoot lasers from cannons, but Airyglyph has its air dragons. I believe that should suffice."

"With all due respect, your majesty, there's still one fatal error in your plan," Nel interrupted respectfully, her knowledge and familiarity in operating the Thunder Arrow parallel to no other in this room. "It's the size: the weapon is far too large and heavy to mount on a single air dragon or two, not even four."

"She does bring up a good point," added Mirage, who had been quietly analyzing their conversation for quite some time. "Sure, that takes care of the range issue, but the transport and execution would be clumsy at best, disastrous at worst. A weapon as cumbersome as that would need something far larger than a normal air dragon to support."

The room fell silent. Gaitt's leaders pondered their latest obstacle with troubled frowns – all except the King, who parted his lips confidently, having anticipated this issue from the start, the solution stored safely at the back of his mind.

"We shall appeal to Crosell."

His answer drew forth startled gasps and whispers from around the room. _Crosell? The_ Crosell? Lord of the Earth, Wind and Sky; first sentient life to walk the lands of ancient Aquor; servant to none? Romeria's jaw dropped, Sanmite's ministers tittered amongst themselves, Nel almost fell out of her chair and Aznor looked like he just managed to bypass a possible heart attack.

" _The Marquis?_ Arzei, are you out of your damn mind?!" The Menodix shrieked, no longer caring for propriety and good manners. Arzei however, appeared calm and mostly unaffected by his outburst.

"Come now, Aznor. He fulfills all the requirements."

"For our sake, my dear friend, I hope you're joking."

"And for _our_ sake," Cliff forcibly butt in, "I hope somebody will tell us who the hell this Crosell is!"

It was Romeria who collected herself first, but it seemed the Queen herself had not fully gotten over her shock, even as she divulged a sacred portion of their kingdom's history.

"Crosell, known to all living beings as _The Marquis_ , is the largest Air Dragon and also the most powerful creature in this world. Unlike all other dragons, he's fully sentient and has been around far longer than the ancient kingdom of Aquor itself. Legend has it that he was not only around when the three sacred treasures were created, but also partially responsible for the creation of one of them, the Crimson Scourge, which was forged from his own scales. Unfortunately," she paused to look at Arzei doubtfully, expression matter-of-fact. "The Marquis hates humans."

"Which further proves – Aznor jabbed Arzei in the chest – how _impossible_ this plan of yours is!"

"Hold on just a second," interrupted Fayt. "How big is he anyway?"

"Oh, trust me, he's _big_ ," Malroy paused to inspect his claws, utterly bored. The feline had been keeping quiet this whole time, but whether it was because he had nothing better to contribute or out of courtesy for his Prime Minister, they were not sure. "But that won't mean shit when he decides to burn you guys to a crisp if he feels you aren't worth his time."

Maria folded her arms and assessed the situation with narrowed eyes. "Let me get this straight: you want us to meet this _Marquis of Dragons_ and convince him to help us? Not to sound pessimistic, but why would he? This isn't his fight. And even if he does agree to help us, how do we locate him? At the very least, we'll need a guide."

Aznor shook his head, sharing his fellow minister's sentiment. "Consider this a lost cause, Ms. Traydor. _The Marquis_ mistrusts everyone. Besides, we don't have anyone who carries the bond with dragons to appeal to his soul. At least, nobody left…"

Arzei hummed, unfazed. "But what if we do?"

"Glou is _dead,_ Arzei!"

"I didn't say 'what if we _did_ '," he countered his hot-blooded friend. "I said, what if we _do."_

At first, no one understood the implications behind the King's rhetorical question, until the pieces finally clicked and Nel stood up so suddenly, her chair crashed against the nearest wall. Her eyes were wide, heart thrumming an incessant melody in her chest; her throat felt oddly dry. _The King couldn't mean…_ Was this the real reason why _he_ was barred from this meeting?

"Glou Nox's son," she whispered with dawning understanding. "Albel Nox."

" _Albel?_ " Aznor sneered, whipping his head around to address the King, making his skepticism known. "I get that he's the last of the Nox bloodline, but he _failed_ the ceremony, Arzei. _The Marquis_ rejected him before. What makes you think he won't reject him again?"

"Because he met your son, my dear friend, or did you forget?" Arzei replied patiently without missing a beat. "That mark of the dragon on his arm… Albel didn't have it then, but he does now and that's enough assurance that not all hope is lost."

Aznor clicked his tongue in annoyance. He did not particularly enjoy the knowledge that his son got involved with Nox's shit, but even he could not deny that Arzei brought up a valid point.

"Does Albel know about this?" he asked, but quickly interrupted himself. "You know what, let me rephrase that: did he agree to this?"

Arzei's silence spoke louder than words. Somehow, Fayt expected that. Albel was not exactly the most selfless and cooperative person on the planet – and 'difficult' was hardly extensive or accurate enough to describe his personality. Ironically, he was the only person on Elicoor II, who held the key to winning that one dragon over in order to make this plan a success. Not to mention, they hated each other's guts. If Albel ever got wind that Fayt's safety and future lay in his hands, he would take it, gloat about it and hold it hostage until he died and/or got Fayt to beg first, whichever he felt more inclined to do. How bothersome.

"It's not that simple," said the King with a heavy heart, attempting to put his emotions into words, to translate his most trusted knight's pain and grief to an audience who barely knew him. "You must understand, this journey demands a lot from Albel, both spiritually and emotionally. He was scorned by this dragon years ago. Crosell took his father's life and in her grief, his mother's life along with it. He lives with this failure each passing day. He was only a boy."

"Yet you insist on sending him on this mission as their guide," observed Romeria with a secretive smile. "Why?"

He did not miss the underlying meaning of her question. While Woltar and the late Vox knew him well as Airyglyph's King, it was Romeria who truly knew him best: the way he thought, the way he simply was. Everyone awaited the King's explanation patiently, namely Fayt, who wondered what made Albel so damn special that he had to come along. Again.

"The Crimson Scourge accepted Albel as its master for a reason," said Arzei, lowering his gaze thoughtfully, before raising his head to look the Queen and Sanmite's ministers in the eye. "I believe he is ready."

Aznor could do nothing save hum in consent. If the Crimson Scourge said so, there really was no arguing around it.

"Fine, Nox goes with them… but so does Nel."

Said woman gave a start, while Romeria fixed the Prime Minister with sparkling eyes of intrigue. "And may I ask the reason why my High Commander in particular is needed for this mission? No doubt it'll prove more beneficial if she stayed here to organise the different races currently sheltered in Aquaria, wouldn't it?" Aznor laughed.

"Simple, my dear Romeria. Nel's got an important job to do, one which I would entrust no one else. After all, she's the one who's going to look after my boy – he turned to grin at the stuttering woman – aren't you Nel?"

What?

 _What?_

"B-But," Fayt struggled helplessly. The Prime Minister has clearly gone insane. Roger _shouldn't_ need to go. "Wouldn't this journey be too dangerous for Roger, especially after what happened at Surferio? Besides, he's _asleep!_ " He knew how pathetic he sounded, grasping at straws, but… _Why?_ Hadn't he involved the poor boy in his problems enough?

"Actually, a little Venus flytrap told me he's just about waking up," said Aznor, amused; and the group saw the small plant in question chatting away at the Prime Minister's ear, before cooling and slinking away to hide in his sleeve.

Right. Huxley senior and plants. Forgot about that.

"Besides, if what you said is true, if Roger really is the reason why Glou's son is suddenly so 'worthy' in the Crimson Scourge's eyes," Aznor met Arzei's eyes, resolute. "Then Nox is going to need all the help he can get."

* * *

People said the 'morning after' was always the worst part; and the moment the young Menodix opened his eyes, wincing at the sudden burst of light, he concluded that it applied to all sorts of situations, not just alcohol and hangovers. He then promptly went back to sleep, the sounds of rustling fabric and steel coming from one Albel Nox next to him not enough to stop him from passing out instantly. It didn't even occur to his sleep-fogged brain why that observation was not a terribly shocking one.

Those next hours were like seconds, and then he was blinking the late afternoon sun out of his eyes, the stain glass windows permissive enough to leave vibrant spots of patterns on the sheets, the colours dancing where his legs shifted beneath the blanket as he struggled to sit up, dazed and disoriented. A shadow passed over his head and the gauntlet that parted the air was from Albel.

A comfortable quiet had set in, and Roger's eyes found Albel's from his position on the bed, his arms over his knees. The Glyphian sat at his bedside watching over him like a soldier on a mission, stoic, patient and ready for anything.

 _Like a knight._

For once, he wasn't immediately greeted with something biting or sarcastic. Maybe the ordeal at Surferio had changed things, shaken up their dynamics and brought their emotional walls down, the demanding end to an already grueling journey.

He wouldn't do it again, not to this degree.

Dying before actually turning into a real man wasn't part of the plan.

And that's when the battle at Castle Aquor hit him, _really_ hit him, and Roger sighed into his hands. The Sacred Orb, those powers, that voice in his head and strange visions he saw, and the people he almost and really _did_ — he shuddered violently. It was a lot to take in.

"Why… are ya even here?"

A slight shift, and then the gauntlet rested against the back of his neck. But Albel's kind gesture wasn't what really shocked him; it was how Albel didn't look at him any differently, like he wasn't afraid the humanoid boy before would suddenly go loco and incinerate him where he stood, like he did to those Vendeeni soldiers. Like he almost did to them without a second thought or sliver of recognition.

"That wasn't you. It didn't _feel_ like you."

Not a shred of hesitation.

Roger's eyes welled with tears and he bowed his head, shoulders trembling, a low chuckle bubbling from his throat. Vermillion eyes watched him, perturbed. It was sad, because the joke wasn't even funny.

"And how do ya know what I feel like?"

Immediately, the gauntlet clattered to the floor, followed by a small pile of bandages, and Roger found himself staring wide-eyed at the ink-black scars that ran and coiled around the swordsman's arm, the elaborate and frightening design of a dragon gazing back at him. Boldly, he ran a tentative finger along the mark; the skin beneath his fingertips felt smooth and warm, yet thrummed with a hidden power that was both strange and hypnotic. The last time he saw this, it was when he first met Albel in Peterny, the skin raw and stench putrid; but now, he saw nothing but the _Mark of the Dragon_ , a sign of the highest honor any knight could receive. The mark glowed a warm and beckoning red where their skin made contact, responding to his touch. Roger gasped at the effect.

"I know when you're afraid, when you need me and when you're in pain."

The scene at the Kirlsa Training Facility flashed through his mind. How Shelby had been _this_ close to killing him, when Albel rushed in out of nowhere and ended his own lieutenant instead without a second thought.

"I know when you're near, your happiness, your sorrow. Your pain is my agony. Your past is my present, your dreams my reality."

And Roger recalled the strange dream he had in Arias, of dragons and fire and a young Albel terrified of his failure and being alone. A hand reached out, no longer concealed under the gleam of cold, unrelenting steel. Long, calloused fingers touched his cheek, cupping it with a gentleness so unlike its owner's unfeeling nature. A fire danced in Albel's eyes, gaze smoldering, fixated on the one thing, the _only_ person who dared to care and see past the wicked him the world only knew. And unsurprisingly, Roger leaned into the ex-captain's touch. The _Mark of the Dragon_ burned brighter.

"Little fool, do you not see? I am your knight. That person who tried to kill us – that wasn't _you._ "

It attacked in flashes, each memory a discomforting tug at his heart because Roger now understood how deeply their connection ran. It wasn't just the dreams or one-sided experiences. He had felt _Albel_ through all of them too. When Shelby held him captive, he had _called_ for the soul at the other end of their bond. When he had that dream, he had _existed_ in the other's conscious. When he experienced a pain so excruciating it caused him to pass out in the middle of the Thunder Arrow's construction… that must have been when Albel had fought Fayt and lost.

"Ya… ya would destroy yerself fer me," Roger breathed in awe, to which Albel snorted in a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, worm," he said with a smirk. "You're not that important."

Roger laughed; it reached his eyes. "Oh yeah? What's with the disclaimer?"

A rare smile, small and hesitant, but nonetheless there. It made Roger pause, but in a good way. No words were said, but no words were needed. Albel the Wicked really wasn't that wicked at all, at least not to him. It was then he could finally see: Albel was his sword and his shield, a protective shadow amidst curls of dark laughter, his loyal knight.

The hand against his cheek suddenly felt warmer. Albel leaned in closer, his eyes sliding shut; and Roger followed the swordsman's lead. The distance between them thinned, breaths mingling. And their lips…

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

The reaction was immediate. Roger squawked and pulled away, face aflame and heart beating so hard, he could've sworn Airyglyph's King heard it from across the room. How compromising. Albel meanwhile, had the audacity to look annoyed. "Do you want the truth, or a pathetic half-baked lie?"

Arzei chuckled and shut the door behind him. He approached them with measured steps, the look in his eyes knowing, the smirk on his face revealing more than he ought to know.

"I think… there are some things better left unsaid to the Prime Minister," said the King evasively, but not without giving the Menodix boy a playful wink. _Very_ unroyal-like. "But I digress. What I'm really here for if your answer, Albel. Have you given my request some thought?"

Said man stiffened, eyes suddenly focused intensely on an invisible spot next to the window. Albel remained tight-lipped as his fingers dug into the fabric of his purple military uniform. Roger looked between them, perplexed. "Um… yer majesty, what's goin' on? What's Albel gotta answer ya fer? What sorta request?"

"Do not fret, little one. Your father and Zelpher will keep you up to speed soon enough," Arzei replied, offering Roger a kind smile, before hardened features turned to regard the broody ex-captain next to him. "Judging by your response or lack thereof, I'm assuming it's a polite refusal on your part." His expression was disappointed, but not unexpected. "... I understand. What I'm essentially asking of you is to put your life on the line for people you owe nothing to. I'll inform Leingod's party."

"Humph, those fools still insist on this suicide mission? That old bastard would burn them where they stand," said Albel with a cruel smirk. The King however, shook his head.

"As a king, it is my duty to do everything in my power to protect the country and its people. It is our only hope for victory. We have to try."

Albel fell silent at his lord's words, the implications of what he ought to do, clear. But this wasn't his fight; his time fo glory had ended as quickly as it had begun at the start of this war; there was nothing left to his name. Was it truly cowardly to walk away from a task that was impossible from the start? His hand wandered to the _Mark of the Dragon_ on his arm, gripping it. He had suffered enough and he refused to go through it again. He didn't have anything to prove. He didn't owe anyone anything.

' _An heir of the Nox family – a worthy dragon knight. Your father, and your father's father, and his father before him, have forged a bond with this Crosell. Are you here to tame my spirit, boy?'_

But he couldn't ignore who he was.

And then Arzei's back was turned to them as he made to leave.

"Wait!"

Arzei paused and turned to address his most loyal expectantly. "What is your decision?"

Albel did not back down. Something in his expression changed. At his side, the Crimson Scourge pulsed and glowed a deep red.

* * *

"We'll cut through Peterny and rest up at Kirlsa for the night. The rendezvous point is at the Bequerel Mountains. Be ready at the break of dawn." The group nodded and Nel turned to their supposed guide and leader for this trip, who quite frankly, wasn't doing a very good job for either. "The Air Dragons will be waiting for us there, correct?"

Albel looked up from examining his claws, passed his gaze disinterestedly over his six companions, and shrugged. "Whatever."

Nel held back a sigh and resisted throttling her new colleague with her fists. Yes, very Cliff-style she realised, but the Glyphian was _that_ aggravating. Also, considering Aquaria and Airyglyph both had pretty high stakes in the current situation, a partnership only seemed logical. So yes, despite his demotion from the ranks, Albel was her direct colleague now. She realised with a begrudging sense of irony that they had been working together a lot lately (forced more like it). Another one of life's greatest challenges she supposed.

"Hey! Wise guy," Cliff stepped up to Nel's defense. "She's just going over the plan so that we're all on the same page. Something you, _mister leader_ , should be doing!"

The clash was unavoidable. Albel growled and rounded on the Klausian, his hand instinctively going for the hilt of his sword, but it hovered there, a silent warning that Cliff was treading on exceedingly thin ground.

"Hold your tongue, maggot! I didn't deny the wench's claim, did I not? And since I'm the 'leader', as you've so eloquently put it, of this miserable traveling circus; everyone shut up, keep walking and maybe we'll actually reach Kirlsa by sundown."

"Call her wench again-!"

Fayt quickly inserted himself between the two before things got ugly. This was ridiculous. Not even 10 steps out of Aquios' gates and they already had their first inter-party dispute. Although technically Albel was the one being utterly insufferable, that was just _him_ and Fayt had already resolved to accept that glaring flaw to the Glyphian's personality the moment the King announced said man's decision. Unfortunately, as their group's appointed guide and only person knowledgeable enough to navigate the mountainous dragon terrain, they automatically let him take the lead. If only Albel were more proactive, or at the very least, less antagonistic and quick to find fault in every damn thing.

"Stop, he's not worth it," he said to Cliff, his stare a weary one. The blonde backed down, but not without muttering a few choice curses under his breath. It made the grin on Albel's face more smug than 5 seconds ago.

"And you," Fayt rounded on his rival and it promptly made Albel's grin fall. "I'm tolerating your bullshit because I'm willing to put my trust in Airyglyph's King and his sense of judgement. I know we aren't friends or willing acquaintances, but we need to work together and that means _no more fighting."_ The tension in his shoulders fell way and his expression softened. _"_ Look Albel, I get that you're on edge and maybe even scared to face up to Crosell, but -"

But whatever Fayt wanted to say next was violently cut off when a clawed hand grabbed him and yanked him off the ground by the front of his tunic. Vermillion eyes flashed dangerously; claws grazed skin beneath the taut fabric; and Fayt momentarily choked from the shock. He had forgotten how unpredictable Albel the Wicked was.

"So, the hero speaks," said Albel, a menacing growl punctuating his speech. "My tolerance for you, _especially you,_ runs increasingly thin." His grip on Fayt tightened as emphasis. "Allow me to make one thing painfully clear: I despise you, all of you, and everything you stand for. You don't know me, and you are arrogant and a fool to think that you do. You come in with your fancy technology and blazing sword, hiding behind your pretty speeches and your chivalry; but you are _nothing_ special and no fancy powers can change that!"

Suddenly, he felt a firm yet gentle hand on his arm.

"Albel, let him go… please?"

And like a beacon in the inky blackness of the night, Roger's voice pierced through his rage and left Albel feeling inexplicably discomfited. He released Fayt without another word. The Earthling stumbled back, hand unconsciously flying to this throat where he still felt the phantom grip of his rival's steel claws, swallowing hard, eyes impossibly wide. That… was a close call. Roger's touch evened out into gentle strokes, a light tracing of fingertips to skin.

"Ya need ta stop thinkin' 'bout the mission and focus on gettin' us ta Kirlsa safely. Everythin' will take care of itself in due time," Roger soothed, before shooting the troubled swordsman a reassuring smile. "C'mon, ya big dummy. Leaders walk first."

With that, Roger tugged him forward and the pair walked ahead in comfortable silence, as if the past few minutes wrought in strife hadn't happened. Nel watched them go, an odd mixture of surprise, concern and amusement creeping across her lips. Cliff moved to stand beside her, his arms folded, expression bemused.

"Well, at least that bastard listens to _somebody_. Never thought it'll be the village chipmunk though."

Maria and Mirage merely shook their heads in exasperation. Fayt however, followed Roger and Albel's retreating figures with his eyes, an uneasy feeling swimming in his chest.

 _To be continued..._

* * *

 **Author's note:**

I'm not dead yet!

Sorry for the ridiculously long interval between this chapter and the last, but I guess that's how my username came to be (nervous laughter). It's Albel's time to shine here on end, and he's had some pretty sweet moments with Roger too. Let's see how long this author can tease and cock block you, before anything yummy actually happens between our boys.

The next chapter should come out sooner than this update took. It's actually the second half of this chapter, but I had to split it into two because it would be way too long to read comfortably in one sitting. With any luck, it'll be out sometime in early May.

Please leave a review if you enjoy my story! I love hearing from you and it's a huge boost for my motivation and confidence as a writer.


	7. Convergence

**Author's note:**

Alright, maybe I _did_ miss the deadline by about a week, but at least the next part came out in May as planned. This one is longer than the last, and I hope you guys enjoy it! I'll see you in the author's notes below.

* * *

 **Review response:**

 _xeranii -_ Ah, my most loyal reader and reviewer! Glad that you noticed and liked the little habits Nel has been emulating off Cliff. I would like to think the two are rubbing off on each other in a sweet, couply way. Thanks for the enthusiasm! I can't wait to see how I write Crosell too lol... it's going to be a _huge_ challenge that's for sure. Maybe even my biggest one (of this arc) so far! Nothing beats the battle scene at the concluding chapters of "The Stars Told Me So" though, so I think I'll be fine. Mostly. Hopefully. And bless you on your feedback on Albel and Roger's relationship. I worked really hard to try and portray their connection with each other, and I'm relieved to see that it not only worked out, but that you actually found it "beautiful". Sheds tears. I will work harder to create a more well-rounded cast than the original game! I love SO3 so much, it's my longest fandom (like, 15 years)!

* * *

 **Resonance of Faith**

 **by Darkinterval**

 **Chapter 7: Convergence**

* * *

They arrived at Kirlsa an hour before sundown – a remarkable feat considering the extensive length of silent disagreements and cold, incriminating stares exchanged between the (mainly) male members of the party. Everyone had been on edge, as if one innocent comment or a glance too long would lead to another power struggle; but Albel behaved himself since the last row, even waited patiently (for Albel's standards anyway) by Peterny's South Gate when the others decided to take advantage of the town's advanced facilities to upgrade their weapons – and they mostly had Roger to thank for that. Like Cliff observed, the guy actually _listened_ to the brat. It was _really weird._ And the uncharacteristically gentle look in Albel's eyes, which made him look like a lovesick puppy whenever he talked to Roger, certainly didn't help things. Actually, it was extremely subtle, arguably a figment of one's overactive imagination, but Cliff was sharp and noticed these things. He just didn't want to start another war between dragon boy and king of the UP3.

Kirlsa's copper stone surroundings and crisp evening air crept just over the horizon. Somehow, the town always seemed so painfully nostalgic, like its people were trapped in time, yet blissfully content in their ignorance, a memory trapped in a burned-out photograph. But Kirlsa's salvation lay in its children, the way they played on the streets and weaved between alleyways like a breath of life, a kindled spark to offset the dreary mundane. It reminded Fayt of autumn back on Earth: the winds were chilly, but the atmosphere warm and hopeful. Everything was brown and red, but not a single fallen leaf was in sight. He wondered if Airyglyph knew what autumn felt like.

A troop of Storm Brigade soldiers greeted them at the gates, spears in hand. Nel raised an eyebrow in interest. Well, this was new. Considering the situation at hand, this was not the kind of warm welcome she had in mind. It was Albel who stepped forward to address them.

"Lower your weapons, fools. Or did the old man fail to inform you of our intent?"

His callousness, although rude and entirely unnecessary, appeared to have the opposite effect on the soldiers, who visibly relaxed. Perhaps the default nature of Albel's grating personality lessened the anxiety they all felt towards the coming conflict, that things weren't that different and shouldn't have to be.

"My sincerest apologies, sir, but Count Woltar has ordered us to step up our defenses after the attack on Surferio," the Storm Brigade soldier explained, saluting the young knight. "Shall I announce your arrival, sire?"

"... I'll tell the old fool myself," said Albel, secretly pleased that at least _some_ of Airyglyph's knights still respected him. He gave a curt nod. "As you were."

"Yes sir!"

Albel bypassed them and made a beeline for the Count's mansion but stopped abruptly when somebody oh-so-conspicuously cleared their throat.

"And where are _you_ going?" Fayt shot him an expectant stare, his hand on his hip, feet tapping impatiently on the stone ground. "You can't just dump us here in the middle of Kirlsa and expect us to know what to do."

Albel was inclined to reply that in fact, yes he could, but he was pressed for time and he didn't feel particularly up for tormenting his rival after that grueling trek across Aire Hills. Instead, he returned Fayt's glare with a cruel smirk of his own.

"I'm a Glyphian, worm; and this is Airyglyph territory." He indicated at their surroundings with a flippant wave of his claw. "Don't expect me to bunk in with the likes of you. We may be on the same team, but I have standards."

Fayt rolled his eyes so hard, he felt a headache coming on. Despite Albel's fall from grace, his unfortunate past and recent losses, the man's ego really was something else. It wasn't a far cry from Roger's now that he thought about it. Maybe that explained why the two got on so well.

"Fine, whatever," he replied, not in the mood to argue. He was tired. They all were. "Where do we stay then?"

Albel indicated at an all too familiar shoddy-looking building with a fine claw. A weather worn flag of Airyglyph hung over the entrance, fluttering in the breeze.

"The Kirlsa Inn should suit you nicely; creaky floorboards and cold drafts, a dead rat under your bed if you're lucky – just like home, hmm?" he said with a mocking tilt to his voice, eyes narrowed in vague amusement. When all he received were hard, unimpressed stares, he turned away with a shrug. "I have taken care of your accommodations. Do with it as you will. Tomorrow's journey will not only be a test of strength, but also will. The Marquis is not known for his mercy."

Satisfied with their silence, Albel turned away, but felt a sudden tugging at his skirt. Looking down, he wasn't at all surprised to find himself staring into a pair of big brown eyes. They shone under the light of the setting sun and Albel struggled against his instincts to show anything but kindness to the little fool in front of his colleagues.

"Hey, ya gonna join us fer dinner? Nel says we're probably gonna eat at the Tavern, but I can't drink nuttin' so I guess I'll just have milk. Wanna come?" Roger asked in his usual boisterous yet naive manner, as if he did not just rudely invite an uninvited guest directly into his social circle without consulting the rest first. Fortunately, Albel was better at reading social situations, especially if they concerned him and his generally unwanted presence.

"Bah! The crap they serve can hardly qualify as dinner, let alone edible enough to pass as food, but…" he paused, harsh features shifting into a soft, awkward smile. "Thanks."

Cliff leaned down to whisper into Nel's ear. "Wait, did that guy just say, _thanks_? Tell me I'm dreaming." Her only response was a smirk. Well, he had her there.

Albel quickly stalked away before anyone could read too much into his words, his long bound hair and skirt swishing with his movements. The group watched their 'leader' leave with vaguely irritated expressions on their faces, before turning to each other.

"Now that Uncle Scrooge is out of the way, what next?" Cliff scratched the back of his head, at a loss. "Too early to hit the hay, and I for one have no plans on paying the Count a visit if Albel's hanging around, so…"

"Simple, ya big lummox! We stock up on food," Roger interrupted with a proud grin. "If we're gonna scale treacherous mountains and face off against the biggest and scariest dragon known ta mankind, not ta mention do _tons_ of walking, then I wanna make sure I don't go hungry!"

Cliff groaned. "Are you serious?"

"Geez, 'course I'm serious!" Roger pouted. "I was thinkin' apples, maybe some pies or three… gotta have some bread too – Hey, ya think we got enough fol fer a travel sack?"

"For _what?_ "

"Ta store all the food, rocks fer brains!"

The sigh that escaped Cliff's lips was a long suffering one, while Fayt simply shook his head at the boy's antics. "Do you always only think of food?" he asked with a little laugh. Roger blinked up at him adorably. "Well… yeah! What's wrong with full bellies?"

Fayt couldn't resist rising to the bait.

"Nothing," he replied with a sly grin. "Depends on what you plan to stuff it with... I could help." He ended with a wink and Roger's face turned so red, he could melt on the spot.

 _O-Oh. Touché, Fayt Leingod._

"If you two are quite done flirting," Maria interrupted a little too snappily, as she shot Roger a warning stare that caused him to flinch back, "then I suggest we get started." Her gaze swept across the party. "Any volunteers?"

Nel sighed, sensing the girl's wrath. After what they saw that night in Surferio during the kingdom dance, it didn't take a genius to figure out that Maria was jealous. She didn't know what sort of relationship the younger girl and Fayt shared, or how Roger fit into the whole picture, but it really wasn't her place to pry. It was obvious that Fayt still very much cared about Roger, and much as she disliked the idea of someone else coming between them and their relationship, perhaps it was for the best. After all, Fayt wasn't from their world, and she would rather Roger feel sad now, than have him cope with heartbreak for the rest of his life. It really wasn't that different from her and Cliff.

"I'll go with Roger to gather supplies for the trip. I have some old contacts here, so we should be able to get things at relatively low prices," she said, hovering over Roger protectively, while shooting Maria a deceptive smile that spoke of an underlying warning to watch her attitude. "We'll have Mirage come with us as well – she turned to said woman kindly – that is, if you don't mind? Roger and I could really use an extra set of hands."

Mirage nodded with a smile. "Not a problem. Lead the way."

"... Alright," Maria relaxed and dropped her hands from her hips, satisfied with their cooperation. "Cliff and I will gather information on Crosell from the locals. See what they know. With any luck, we'll have a better idea what we're up against."

Cliff turned to Fayt expectantly. "What about you? What're you going to do?"

Fayt mulled over his (limited) options. After upgrading his sword in Peterny earlier, there really wasn't any reason to pay Kirlsa's workshop a visit, but… He fingered a small device in his pocket discreetly. The sand in the hourglass was slipping through his fingers. Days faded in and out with the passage of the sun. And yet, he hadn't been able to complete the one thing he started on, since he crashed landed on this strange new world, embarked on an even stranger adventure, where he met the strangest, most wonderful boy he had ever known.

 _I'm running out of time._

"You guys go ahead. I'll catch up. I-"

When he lifted his gaze, Roger had been staring at him, something about that shy smile making his words unnecessary, unneeded in this place where time stood still, and they could go back to the beginning.

* * *

Roger was bored.

Between visiting general stores that all pretty much looked the same and picking produce and herbs that didn't appear that different from each other despite their fancy-shmancy names, Roger very quickly found out that Kirlsa was _boring_ , he was _bored_ and food alone wasn't going to cut it. He knew he wasn't built for such domestic tasks – he was a real man for crying out loud! But that didn't mean he disrespected the ladies; after all, making meticulous choices and carrying all that _stuff –_ that was dedication. And focus. And he didn't have that. But he wasn't going to admit it. So, taking pity on the kid with the attention span the size of a pea, Nel had let him go on pretense of 'scouting for suspicious behavior' with a knowing smile. Apris bless her.

And that was how Roger found himself wandering aimlessly around the quiet little mining town, no less bored than how he felt 15 minutes ago. _Geez, this was agony._ He had passed that same outfitter _twice_ and –

And then a swish of purple flashed past, before darting down a narrow street. Only one person he knew wore purple and Roger was on them in seconds, grinning wide at the prospect of bothering Albel into madness, clumsily tailing him as fast as his little legs could carry him. He wasn't one for stealth if a few upturned crates and clattering of trash proved anything, but he wasn't going for espionage (that was more Nel's thing) and his target didn't seem to care anyway. In fact, if he wasn't so busy dusting his pants off, Roger would have noticed the look Albel was giving him over his shoulder. The concern was somewhere beneath the exasperated grimace and haughty raise of his eyebrows. But Albel turned around and continued walking in long strides.

"You're embarrassing me," he tossed over his shoulder. And _maybe_ he was, but Roger refused to let Albel have that one.

And so, their little cat-and-mouse game continued. Albel would visit shop after shop and Roger would hang back at the windows pretending (very badly) to be invisible and interested in the stuff on display. When Albel met up and made quick exchanges with old colleagues, Roger would peek over a wall and eavesdrop like an eager child at Christmas. Of course, the soldiers would notice and make attempts to point him out, only to receive a subtle signal from Albel to just drop it and pretend he wasn't there. That made the soldiers even more confused, but hey, they weren't going to question Albel the Wicked about his life choices. And when he entered a small eatery, Albel purposely took his time eating his slice of apple crumble and had to conceal a snicker at the knowledge of how hungry the Menodix probably felt while watching him. Served him right though. He was the one who wanted to keep up this ridiculous game. Roger really was innocent. Albel was sure he didn't even know what stalking was.

However, when he reached the entrance of an old pub _,_ Kirlsa's shaddier and rowdier counterpart to the _Iron Tavern,_ he stopped and turned to face a barrel standing in the middle of the street. Yes, Roger had decided to tail him in a _barrel_. And to any onlooker, he would appear to be talking to one. Thankfully Kirlsa was called a ghost town for a reason.

"This is a pub, little fool, off limits to even you. You can't come in."

Predictably, the barrel lid flew off and Roger emerged, pouting. "Why not?" he whined. "I'm _boreeedd_ … and no one would notice me anyway!"

Albel sighed. "Yes, they will. Now go bother someone else for the next two hours."

Roger's ears drooped. "I take it yer ain't comin' fer dinner?"

Albel hesitated. "The invitation was… appreciated."

"Oh."

Disappointment. Albel had learned to deal with that all his life, but something about seeing it on Roger's face really didn't sit well with him. It made him feel uncomfortable and something-that-felt-like-guilt-but-wasn't, crawled into his chest. _Dammit._ He was growing soft. He hated this. He hated Roger. He needed a drink. Preferably a really strong one. Maybe three.

As luck (or maybe not) would have it, he noticed smoke coming from the chimney of a nearby workshop. And to make things even more perfect, guess who was busy striking metal inside? Normally, Albel wouldn't throw his rival a bone, but emotions were something he couldn't deal with and Leingod could probably do wonders to make the kid not feel so fucking disappointed, while he figured out his heart.

"It appears Leingod's slaving away at the workshop." He pointed at a window and sure enough, Fayt's silhouette and blue hair could easily be seen moving back and forth. Hair that striking was hard to miss, really.

"Why not you go see what he's up to? Then break it while you're at it." He chuckled cruelly at his own joke, but before he could comment further, Roger had happily bounded off, his playful giggles bouncing around his skull and once again, reminding him of his solitude.

* * *

"Please work, please work…"

The device gave two beeps and lit up; a holographic screen popped up and asked for an access code. Fayt gave a loud whoop.

" _Yes!_ Fayt Leingod, you're one handsome genius."

" _Access denied. You have entered an invalid access code. Reboot commencing in 10 seconds-"_

"Wait, no, uh- "

A moment's scrambling and a few frantic tweaks later, he managed to disable the security system and leave the device in its default public setting. Initially, this was supposed to be a science project and certain precautionary measures had to be taken to ensure copyright, least someone else stole credit for his tech before he got it patented; but now, things were different. Fayt didn't even care if he had nothing to turn in for his assignment. There were just other things that were more important to him than an 'A+' on paper.

A delicate copper chain was melded on next, and as he waited for the metal to cool, Fayt picked up a thin metal rod with a sharpened tip the size of a pencil and wrapped one end in a piece of cloth. Then, he squatted in front of the workshop's fireplace and stuck the tip into the flames. Once it glowed a bright red, he removed it and placed the heated tip to the flat underside of the device, scratching in a series of letters. Every time the metal cooled, Fayt would repeat the heating process, the neat cursive strokes gradually taking shape. When he was finished, he tossed the rod aside and blew away the excess dust and tiny bits that gathered. Finally, he took a wet cloth from a bucket and pressed it onto the metal, smiling in satisfaction at the hissing contact between hot and cold, of a job well done, the end of a chapter and the beginning of a new adventure.

' _I can't like Albel because I like ya, Fayt. It's always only been ya. Fer as long as possible. I wanna like ya fer as long as possible…'_

Fayt's fingers around the device clenched. No doubt Roger's journey would grow to be an interesting one. He just wished he could stick around for the ride.

Suddenly, the workshop door creaked open and a head with long blue hair poked tentatively inside. Maria surveyed her surroundings with a purpose, until her emerald gaze landed on the man she had been looking for. Fayt quickly pocketed the device and rose to his full height, studying Quark's leader curiously. Was it him, or did Maria seem a little off? Like, more motivated, yet less in control. If Fayt could be honest, Maria was an enigma; he could never figure out what she was thinking, anticipate her actions, understand her motives. She was bossy, arrogant, incredibly intelligent and resourceful; but she was also fun, passionate and a skilled gamer. Maria Traydor was as graceful and beautiful as she was deadly. In other words, she was perfect. If Sophia was around, she would have probably played matchmaker and nagged him into making a move and fast. Girls like that didn't come by easily, and girls that shared things in common with him were even more of a rarity. And really, Maria was great. Fayt liked talking to her, hanging out with her, swapping knowledge and stories. He just didn't like her enough to take their chemistry further.

"I thought I'd find you here," said Maria with a smile as she approached him in confident strides. "Though I thought we already made the necessary improvements on your sword's structural balance and handling. Did you need to make some adjustments?"

Fayt chuckled at her curious expression. "Nah… just a personal project. What's up?"

Maria hesitated and her face immediately turned shy. "Fayt… could we talk outside? It's important."

Well, that was strange. But Fayt wasn't one to question her intentions, especially when she had come all the way here and asked so openly. "Um, sure. Ok." Really, what else could he say?

He followed her out the door, past houses and giggling children, until they arrived at an old bridge overlooking a rushing river. Fayt remembered this place: the path led to the Bequerel Mines. Maria paused at the middle of the bridge to gaze out at the tranquil scenery, an unreadable expression on her face. Fayt watched her approach the edge, before settling on the old wood, feet dangling over the side. He followed her example and the two sat side by side in comfortable silence. A bird landed on the railing near Maria's head and chirped happily. She watched it, a wistful smile on her face.

"It's so peaceful here… I can see why you have difficulties leaving."

Fayt hummed absently. "Mmm-hmm…"

When Maria failed to elaborate, he decided to jump straight in. "So… what did you want to talk about?"

"Well…" she looked away and cleared her throat awkwardly. "It's just that with all that's happened, we never actually got a chance to talk. Seriously speaking. All that you've learned mostly came from that rushed explanation in the palace and for lack of a better term, 'on field practice'. As leader of Quark and the person responsible for dragging you into this mess, I feel you deserve a proper explanation, an open and honest one without frills and barriers."

Maria's words took him by surprise. This was a softer, more considerate side of her. As opposed to how they first met, Fayt actually felt that Maria was addressing him as more of a friend than a mission objective. He supposed, like the rest of their party, they had really come a long way together. She seemed to understand his feelings because she offered him a genuine smile.

"So… don't you have something you want to ask me about? It can be anything, really. About anyone."

"Well, ok," Fayt pretended to mull over the question a bit. "When did _you_ become aware of your power?"

That caught her completely off-guard and it showed on her face. "That's a strange thing to ask, considering where we are now." Maria's expression turned intrigued. "Why do you want to know?"

"I mean, I'm curious, I guess?" said Fayt, rubbing the back of his neck, sheepish. "I found out because everyone told me, so I was wondering how you figured it out."

Maria closed her eyes and seemed to be struggling with herself, a frown creasing her features. For a moment, Fayt wondered if he had offended her and overstepped some boundaries, but Quark's leader eventually took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

"... All right. I'll tell you. It was seven years ago." Old, faded visions snapped into focus in her mind's eye. Distorted voices buzzed in her head like static. "I was 12 years old, living with my parents on Federation Station #17. My Father was a Federation officer, and my mother was a research scientist working on that station. Since both of my parents worked, I never got to spend much time with them, but I was happy. We were happy. That is, until the war with the Aldians took all that away…"

She could still hear the blaring distress signal in her dreams, could still feel the tremors from the blast whenever she walked along her ship's corridors.

"They attacked the station, and we had no choice but to evacuate – everyone that is, except my father." Maria paused there, that information an emotionally difficult one to relay. "We had a plan though: my mother and I would leave first, and my father would meet us at Arakh – he _promised_. But the situation changed; the Aldians pursued us and eventually overtook our vessel. My father stayed behind to fight, while my mother ushered me into the ship's remaining escape pod. I was distraught. Everything was happening so fast…"

"And that was when she disclosed a secret to me that she had planned to take to her grave... they weren't my real parents. I was a research test subject and they were tasked to protect me." Maria blinked back tears. She could still hear her mother's voice, almost as if she was right next to her and all those horrible things hadn't happened. "My mother's last words to me were this: You're very important! You must not give up. You must survive! You have the power within yourself." She shook her head. "But at that time, I didn't understand what she meant. How could I?"

Fayt gazed at Maria in a mixture of sorrow and disbelief. Finding out her parents weren't her own, and then losing them at the age of 12? That must have been tough. He had a newfound respect for the strong, independent woman.

"I'm so sorry…"

Maria shook her head, wiping away a stray tear. "Don't be. Anyway, my escape pod was due for Arakh, and all that time I kept wondering what happened to everyone else on board that ship. But on the 10th day, I received a warning that an unidentified ship was approaching my location." Her eyes immediately lit up at the memory, a fond smile spreading fully across her lips. "It was a Klausian battleship, as I later found out, and the people who went out of their way to save me, were none other than Cliff and Mirage."

"I see… so that's how you met," said Fayt, sharing in her amusement. Maria appreciated that. It became easier to divulge her past the more she went on, and the company definitely helped.

"That's right. I was taken to the Klausian home world. I no longer had any place to go home to, so I joined their organisation. At that time, Cliff was the leader of Quark, the infamous anti-Federation group that you know of today. He took me in, raised me, taught me how to fight and fly. We would assist planets affiliated with the Federation or unaffiliated planets pressured to join. In other words, our primary role was to act as an intermediary," she explained excitedly as the memory took her, reminded her of happier times, times where things were much simpler, and problems seemed so minuscule compared to what they were facing now. "I learned a lot. I'm… forever grateful to them."

"So how did you become leader?" asked Fayt with a wry smirk. "I can't imagine you-know-who stepping aside so easily."

His comment made her laugh. "Well… there was an incident. And it just so happens that incident is also the answer to your question." She straightened up and launched into the next part of her story.

"It was 4 years after I joined Quark. We were on our way to Rion when Cliff discovered I was accessing the Federation's database. I was looking for information about my parents, but more specifically, what my mother's true work entailed and why all the secrets. Cliff chose not to confront me about it. Said that it was his way of keeping an eye on me, but not letting me know they know, you know?"

Fayt burst out laughing and shook his head. Classic Cliff.

"I can imagine that."

Maria shared his sentiment with a soft giggle of her own.

"Anyway, shortly after that, we received a distress signal from an unknown ship. However, when we warped to its location, it was a trap. We were attacked by the Invisible, a Federation battleship. Their equipment and technology far outmatched our own. Our team had been compromised and Cliff was forced into a corner knowing we had no chance for escape." Her expression hardened and turned cold from the memory. "We were going to die."

Fayt held on to Maria's every word desperately, but when he noticed her struggling again, he allowed her time and space. This whole conversation was probably very difficult for her and if her reaction earlier was any indication at all, he was the first person she ever confided with in six years!

"That was when I remembered my mother's words. I couldn't give up, I had to survive. And it was in that life and death situation where my powers manifested." Maria reached out to the sky, fingers splayed open like she was channeling her powers the same way Fayt did when he defeated the Vendeeni, the same way she did against the Invisible two years ago.

"With my ability to manipulate all matter and energy, I managed to amplify the magnitude and intensity of our quantum torpedoes and took down the Federation battleship in a single strike. Over time, I began to learn methods to exert a small amount of control over it. I still haven't been able to reproduce the power that took down the Invisible, but after that incident, everyone wanted me to become the leader of Quark." She paused when she noticed her companion's awestruck silence and flashed him a cheeky grin. "What's wrong? Are you surprised?"

"Well of course!" Fayt exclaimed, snapping out of it. "And I have the same power too…"

Maria nodded sagely. "That's right. And if everything that has happened so far isn't enough to convince you, then I have proof." She turned and looked him dead in the eye. "I investigated the research facility where my mother was working at to find out about my own birth. I found what I was looking for, and something else: a report of a terrifying experiment."

Fayt had a bad feeling about this. "Research facility?"

"The lab where my mother worked at that time was a symbological genetics research facility inside district 16 of Moonbase," Maria explained.

"But that's where my dad-"

"Correct," she finished for him. It really wasn't rocket science. "The Leingod Research Facility. My mother worked for your father as one of the lab assistants there. I was a test subject at that lab, scheduled for disposal – I still don't know why. She rescued me. That's how I learned there was another subject that underwent the same symbological modifications just like me… you."

Despite what he already knew to be true, that news was still a shocker. If Fayt wasn't already sitting down, his knees would have given way.

"But why?" He whispered fearfully. "That kind of experiment is forbidden!"

"That's why I want to rescue your father, to ask him directly," said Maria with sudden conviction, rising to her feet. "To ask him why the experiments. Why I was looked upon as nothing but trash in his eyes, meant to be thrown away. Why two people who loved me had to go through all that and pay the price with their lives. Why I had to live such a lonely life…"

As she went on, her voice grew progressively sadder, the spark in her eyes lost. A quiet, desperate anxiety fueled by years of loneliness, dominated her speech. There was so much pain, sorrow and anger reflected in Maria's soul, it dragged Fayt to his feet as he closed the distance between them. Placing his hands on the girl's trembling shoulders, he gave them a firm squeeze, emerald meeting emerald, sealing their exchange with a promise.

"I understand, Maria," he said with a smile. And he really did. He got it now. "Let's rescue my father. We'll ask him… together."

However, nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. Because Maria had closed her eyes, leaned forward, and placed her lips gently upon his own. There was a sudden rustle of leaves, but Fayt stayed there, against the rise and fall of Maria's chest, too shocked to move, and time slipped out of place.

* * *

Fayt shoved the younger girl away and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. His emerald eyes had gone impossibly wide, confused and horrified by what had just taken place, his head swimming with a series of disarray thoughts and questions. The uncomfortable buzzing in his cranium reached a crescendo. Did Maria just– _What the hell just happened?_

"Maria, what did you do?"

The question hung in the air, echoing in their ears with a dawning dread, like someone had just crossed the line and was only just realizing the repercussions of their actions. At first, no one spoke, both coming to terms with the kiss and what it meant – well, for Fayt at least. Maria however, had her head bowed, blue bangs obscuring her eyes as she let out quiet sniffles, shoulders trembling. And Fayt hated that, he really did. He disliked it when girls cried, worse still if he had been the cause of it. He had only reacted out of instinct, because he _knew_ what a kiss on the lips meant and he _knew_ he didn't feel the same. But the same couldn't be said for Maria, and from what he gathered from her story – her past, anger, sorrow and loneliness – Fayt knew that he needed to help her understand.

"Oh no, no… Maria… Hey," he soothed, gently cupping her cheeks and getting her to look at him, thumbing away her tears. "Hey… it's ok, please don't cry…" He offered her a kind, gentle smile, seeking her gaze like a flower seeking the sun, chuckling softly, nervously. "Because… because if you cry, I really, _really_ don't know what to do."

It was like dejavu; and in that instant, Fayt felt like he was talking to Sophia again and they were back on Hyda IV. But Maria was a little different than Sophia, because unlike his childhood friend who experienced real relationships, read romance novels and cried her eyes out while watching crappy soap operas, Quark's leader never had the chance to lead a normal life.

"I thought… I thought you liked me," she said between hiccups, trying her best to compose herself but failing miserably. "We seemed to get along… you even said we made a great… great team. I spent… _four years_ reading up about you… learning about the kind of person you are… _searching_ for you… I felt that we have this connection."

 _Oh boy._ Fayt really felt like a complete jerk.

"Maria, I _do_ like you," he assured her, doing his best to sound as sincere as he could. "But as a friend."

"Well, I don't!" she shrieked, though it came across as a defeated whine instead. Dammit, why did it hurt so much? "I _like_ you, Fayt. As a… a…" She paused, struggling for the right term.

Fayt sighed, helping albeit reluctantly, "A boyfriend?"

When Maria did nothing but simmer in bitterness and embarrassment, Fayt decided to approach things from a different angle.

"Ok, ok." He conceded, "What do you like about me then?"

Maria blinked rapidly in surprise at the sudden question but was quick to reply. "You're captain of your school's basketball team, you won the Intergalactic Pro League Gamers Championship three years in a row, you have top grades in your cohort but you're extremely lazy and–"

"Uh, that's nice and… kinda creepy that you know so much about me, but I'll have to stop you there," said Fayt with a serious stare. "Maria, I asked what you _like_ about me, not what you know. Do any of my achievements mean a thing to you? My personality? My flaws? What?"

Maria gnawed at her lower lip. "I like… your… reaction time? When you fight."

Fayt sighed even louder this time. On one hand, he felt relieved Maria's feelings were both superficial and misplaced; but on the other hand, talking to her about relationships and something as simple as what she liked was frustrating as hell. And so, being the ever patient and nice guy he was, Fayt decided to break things down for her _really slowly._

"Maria, you don't like me. You never did. And before you start arguing with me about how I'm wrong, I just want you to know that liking someone for their reaction timing really doesn't make sense like, at all."

She blushed, mortified by her confession, but at the same time appeared less uptight and insecure about herself and the awkward situation they found themselves in. Fayt took it as a good sign to continue.

"You're lonely because you've lost so much, one after another. Then, you find out the two

people you loved weren't even your real parents… you must've felt that you've been alone all your life. To top it off, you have your powers, which made you one of a kind, until you met me. Finally, you found someone who was just like you. It gave you hope and suddenly things weren't so dark and scary anymore." Fayt shook his head sadly. "Now, I wouldn't go so far as to claim that I understand how you feel, because I never had to go through what you did. But what I do know is that you can't cling onto someone who's equally damned, and call it love."

A beat, then it was Maria's turn to sigh. Fayt… made a lot of sense. For someone who had his head up in the clouds so much, the Earthling possessed a surprising amount of insight. Maybe it was this place and the things he had seen; they changed him, molded him. Now she felt like such a fool. Perhaps he was right. Maybe all she needed was a good friend to show her the way.

"I'm sorry for what I… for what happened earlier," she apologized, averting her gaze nervously. Thankfully, she knew Fayt was too carefree a sort to hold grudges, or even understand the meaning of post-confession awkwardness. "We, ah, still cool?"

He grinned and tugged her hand into a friendly shake. "Yeah, of course!"

"Great." Maria withdrew her hand and held it against her chest. She was still worrying her lower lip. A sudden doubt filled her eyes. Something still bothered her.

"How will I know?"

"Huh?"

Maria braced herself as she repeated, "How will I know if I like…" she swallowed. "If I love someone?"

And Fayt smiled at her innocence, answering the younger girl the same way he had answered his childhood friend all those moons ago.

"Right here," he said, taking Maria's hand and placing it over her heart. "No need to overthink things, ok? You'll just know. Don't worry, you'll find them. One day."

Maria sniffed and wiped away the last of her tears, before meeting Fayt's eyes with a smile of her own. "Is that how it was with Roger?" she asked, genuinely curious and for the first time, happy for him.

At the mention of the Menodix's name, Fayt's heart clenched as did his fingers around the device in his pocket. A bushy tail. A bright, oversized helmet, and a vision of a small humanoid boy grinned and waved to him before drifting away, his last expression, a wistful smile, turned towards the sun. They had a good run.

"Yeah." He bowed his head, placing a hand over his heart. "I just knew."

* * *

Since his imprisonment, Albel never thought he would pay his guardian a visit, much less _see_ the old bastard again; but here he was, sitting pretty at the manor dining room and nursing a glass of red wine after a fine cut steak. Absently, he thought about Leingod and gang and the poor excuse of dinner they were probably having now and chuckled beneath his breath. How sad and truly pathetic.

"Seeing as it is almost impossible to make you laugh, I'm rather interested to know what it is you find so humorous."

Woltar entered the room, flanked by two guards, both whom he immediately dismissed at the door. As soon as the large oak barriers boomed shut, the King's adviser and Captain of the Storm Brigade made his way to the head of the long table in calm, measured strides. Albel followed his movements with narrowed eyes, jaw clenching and claw flexing, digging into the old wood on the underside of the table, leaving marks.

"None of your business, old man."

"On the contrary," Woltar replied, exhaling a soft and contented sigh as he slowly sank into his chair. "Loathe as you are to concede, you are my ward and thus, your business is my business." His gaze travelled to the weapon strapped to Albel's side, a knowing twinkle in his eyes. "Such as how you suddenly came to possess the legendary _Crimson Scourge._ I take it its power and reputation have been more of a burden than a blessing."

Recognition flashed across Albel's eyes and with an infuriated growl, he lunged forward, drawing said weapon so swiftly, Woltar barely had a chance to blink before he found the sword's blade buried deep within the hardwood in front of him, the sharp tip mere inches from stabbing through his lap. However, the old sage didn't so much as flinch and that pissed off Albel even more. _Sly bastard._ Woltar had foreseen these series of events and orchestrated the whole thing somehow. Deep within his soul, Albel knew the old knight was incredibly dangerous, ruthless in his cunning and experience on the battlefield; but this… this felt too calculated to simply pass off as something nonsensical as fate.

"Come now, boy. Surely you would have anticipated I had a word with his majesty, before you were pardoned and released from your sentence?" said Woltar with a patronizing smile. "Besides, I do not see any reason for complaint; after all, here you stand, master to the most terrifying weapon ever to be forged in this world. I think I need not elaborate the fact the sword found you worthy."

Albel gave a contemptuous snort. "All I had to show was how much of a disappointment I was, and suddenly I'm worthy." He retrieved the _Crimson Scourge_ , stared at his face reflected in the blade's gleaming surface, and shook his head. "Bah! What does it matter? I'll be dead tomorrow and the last of the Noxes will fall to _The Marquis_."

Woltar studied his ward with a pensive frown. Did Albel think so little of himself, even now?

"Tell me, Albel. Are you here because the sword told you to, or because you want to?" he asked.

The humorless bark of laughter that followed said more than what he feared to be true.

"What difference does it make?" said Albel spitefully, going on the defensive. "Freedom? Choice? I never had those. Every decision I've made, every path I have left… they all lead to the same place, the same cruel punchline – I'm only here because someone else wants me to be."

Woltar gave him a pinched expression. "You are quite the drama queen. That being said, if it is not you who would face up to Crosell, then who?"

"Old man, are you going to tell me to do this for the greater good?" Albel sneered, losing his patience. What he didn't expect however, was the unsympathetic scoff that left his guardian's lips.

"Hah, greater good? I do not think you care." Woltar fixed his ward with a cold, unfeeling stare, so grave and indomitable, it made Albel freeze, like a boy who suddenly regretted going against his father out of mere spite and childish pride. But as soon as it appeared, all that hardness melted away to be replaced with the somber features of a regretful old man.

"No, I do not believe you need that. You do not need honor. Pride and ambition, you have no use for them. You do not need orders and you do not need guilt." He rose from his seat and moved to stand face-to-face with the wary knight. Albel stayed on his toes; years of experience taught him that the old Storm Brigade Captain was more than what he seemed. But all his thinking flew out the window the moment Woltar bridged the gap and years of second-guessing with a pair of firm hands on his shoulders.

"Whatever you choose to do, that decision is yours. When your father sacrificed his life, it was to protect yours." He smiled and it was one of kindness. "Albel, the future and its infinite possibilities - they all belong to you. It is _your_ life, boy. Do not let anyone tell you what you want and how to lead it."

Albel lowered his gaze, mulling over the old man's words with an intense frown upon his brow. _My life?_ If only he knew what he wanted out of it. If only he knew who that person was in the reflection of his sword–

Someone was shouting.

Actually, make that many people were shouting and a _very loud_ someone was trying to shout over them.

Confused, Albel and Woltar shared a look, before the two Glyphians were on their feet, shuffling through the foyer and out the mansion doors. They descended the garden stairs, Albel taking two steps at a time, irritation increasing tenfold the closer he got to the entrance. He was immediately greeted with the view of a dozen Storm Brigade knights huddled together, struggling and talking down to something a lot smaller than the impression their loud, high-pitched voice led others to believe. _Idiots_. This better be worth his time or–

"Ya numbskulls! Do ya have any idea who I am?!"

He knew that voice.

"Look, kid. I couldn't give a shit if you're the Prime Minister's daughter–"

"Prime Minister's son!"

"But this is Count Woltar's estate, and the lord and Sir Albel have given strict instructions to bar all unauthorized persons from entering the premises."

What followed thereafter, was a pitiful, heart-breaking whine; a cross between desperate and pained.

"Please, I just wanna see him… I wanna see Albel! It's important, I needa talk ta him! Please… _please…_ "

And the moment Albel roughly shoved the last guard aside, he was immediately assaulted by the sight of a trembling little Menodix boy, eyes full of tears. Then, the wave of pain started. A sharp pang went straight through his chest, multiplying through their bond, and Albel had to do everything in his power to force the excruciating feeling down, with nothing to show for his troubles save a slight grimace.

"Forgive us, sir, but the kid wouldn't–"

" _Leave it._ "

A pair of fluffy ears perked at the sound of that familiar voice. As soon as Roger noticed the stoic ex-captain staring straight at him, he threw himself at his legs and the flood gates opened. The child sobbed uncontrollably, mumbling gibberish, steadily soaking up the front of Albel's skirt with snot and tears. Startlingly, the wicked one didn't seem to mind; instead, ignoring the questioning stares from his fellow knights and guardian, Albel gently scooped Roger into his arms and entered the mansion without another word.

"It… it's F-Fayt… He… he and… I s-saw…"

"Shhh…" Albel hushed, whispering in his ear. "I know. I feel."

He swore on his honor, Leingod was going to pay dearly in blood.

* * *

Albel poured himself another glass of wine, swirling the liquid absently as Roger managed through his recount on Fayt and Maria's romantic exchange no less than an hour ago. It was… unexpected to say the least, detestable at most. No words were necessary; he already knew through their bond; but the poor boy needed an outlet, a way to get all the hurt and confusion out, no matter how miserable and painful the entire process was. If one asked the ex-captain if he actually cared enough to listen, Albel would have quite frankly said 'no' and be done with all things blue hair, self-righteous and from outer space. But because this was _Roger,_ he couldn't ignore him even if he wanted to, both nature-wise and his own budding sense of personal duty.

"And what would you do now?" he finally asked, the question burning at the back of his skull since the boy started his emotional waterworks. Funny, he never thought he would use those two words in the same sentence when it came to Roger.

The humanoid's ears drooped as he fingered the bed sheets, releasing a shuddering breath. "I… I can't go back," he whispered, _not when he's there._ And Albel understood well enough, downing the remaining contents of his glass.

"Hmm. You can't stay here, fool."

Woltar's disapproval could already be felt an entire hallway down… and he was out of wine. Fantastic. He crossed the room and pulled out a small flask of sake and a saucer he had stashed away in a chest at the foot of his bed. It had been years since he last stayed in the mansion. Fortunately, his stuff were still here and, he noted with approval, untouched.

Albel returned to his little table by the window, uncorked the flask, and poured himself a generous amount of sake onto the saucer. He brought it up to his nose, gave a quick whiff, and tipped the liquid into his mouth. _Wonderful._ The burn was welcome at the back of his throat. He could feel the stress and pent up tension in his muscles slowly ebb away. Roger watched him with curious eyes, fascinated by the simple act, drawn to the man's elegance and grace. The scent of yeast and sweet fruits filled his nostrils.

"Hey, what's that? What'cha drinkin'?" he asked, pointing at the pale, ceramic flask. "Smells amazin'! Can I try?"

Albel openly snorted. "It's sake. And trust me, it smells better than it tastes. Best to keep your curiosity to yourself, little fool." Despite saying that, he had already gathered his things and moved to sit next to the child on the bed. Roger's eyes sparkled with something childlike. "Really?" And before the Glyphian swordsman could fully process the implications of that remark, Roger had shot forward, grabbed his full saucer, and downed everything in one gulp.

Albel was too busy smirking at the little boy who had immediately started coughing from the alcohol he had just shot back, to worry about how Zelpher would react to the knowledge of him allowing a minor to drink. Then again, she didn't have to know. And the idiot was the one who stole his sake anyway. It served him right.

" _Bleargh!_ What _is_ this stuff?" Roger's face looked like he had just swallowed a bag full of lemons. "It's like I just drank _lead_! I smelled berries. _Where's the berries?!_ "

"Let me rephrase this in a manner your diminutive brain would understand," said Albel patiently. "This is a drink for real men, not for foolish children like _you_. Now go back to the inn."

But that was obviously too easy. Albel knew it would be, so he wasn't at all alarmed when Roger shot him a defiant stare and snatched the ceramic flask from his hand. A little warning voice in his head told him to stop the brat right now before they _both_ got into trouble, but a bigger, selfish part of Albel wanted to see the little Menodix drunk out of his mind… And so, he remained silent, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, as he watched the boy put the flask to his lips and gulped down every last drop of the clear liquid. No doubt it was burning his throat and stomach, but Roger showed a surprising amount of resilience for someone so young and small.

The humanoid thrust the flask into Albel's waiting hand with a grunt of triumph, breathing heavily. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Roger wondered if he had been baited somehow; but the more emotional, foggy part of his brain brushed that thought aside as soon as it entered. _Nah..._

"Hah! Who's the real man, now?" he announced proudly in between his panting, jabbing at the Glyphian's chest with a finger for emphasis. "Guess I ain't a _foolish child_ after all, huh?" His face was red and his gaze helplessly unfocused. Roger was most certainly, hilariously, drunk.

"So you've proved," Albel drawled, an odd mixture of affection and irritation in his expression… until a nasty smirk crossed his face when he suddenly realised _he_ was the one who had to deal with the consequences of Roger's stupidity and answer to a possibly livid Nel Zelpher and her friends. As if they didn't already have enough reasons to hate him.

"... It's late, little fool. I'll walk you to the inn." But a small hand shot up and grabbed his wrist before he could even push off the bed.

Roger had his head bowed; eyes focused on a single spot on the blanket. A look of concern and annoyance peeked through Albel's raised eyebrows. The child refused to meet his stare.

"Hey, Albel," Roger began slowly, unsure, like he was trying to put a series of complicated thoughts into words, but the alcohol really wasn't helping much. "Why do ya call me 'little fool' all the time? Do ya… I mean, I know ya call everyone a fool 'cuz ya probably mean it, but…" He raised his head and his gaze was immeasurably sad. "Am I… really a fool to ya? S'that how… how others see me? S'that why Fayt… why he..."

Roger couldn't complete his sentence, but he didn't have to. The sake was long forgotten the moment he felt a pair of strong arms – one warm and hard with muscle, the other bulky and cold as steel – wrap protectively around him, pulling him onto an equally firm and warm lap. A pair of lips ducked down to whisper in his ear, low and hoarse from their intimate position, the feel of Albel's body heat a smoldering furnace against his own.

"Listen well, for I won't repeat myself." Albel pulled him closer until they were chest-to-chest, and Roger released an involuntary moan. "You are no one's fool but mine alone."

The older man's words made him smile. By this point, Roger found it hard to focus his attention on much, except for Albel and how safe he made him feel, how close they were, his small body pressed shamelessly against Albel's bigger one – and why _wouldn't_ he want to focus on that? Everything else seemed to be a waste of energy and brain cells. His head felt odd… floaty. His body felt pleasantly numb, the area between his thighs uncomfortably hot and tingly… Had he felt this way before? Maybe. He couldn't remember. But it was better than the burn in his throat and the shitty feeling in his chest at least.

"Mmm, Albel," Roger moaned, fingers trailing down the length of the older man's gauntlet, purposeful. It was his turn to cock his head and whisper into Albel's ear. "Y'know, it's just us… why don't ya take off the claw?" The intoxicated look in the boy's eyes could only be described as incredibly sexy. "I wanna get a good look at ya…"

Albel fought back a growl and the impulse to throw Roger onto the bed. _Oh yes,_ he was going to introduce alcohol as a staple beverage in the Menodix's diet from now on.

A few quick clicks from hidden latches, and the metal gauntlet clattered onto the floor. Its owner hardly flinched. That wasn't going to be used tonight if he had anything to say about it. Roger himself wasted no time in touching the exposed flesh greedily, running his fingers over smooth skin and hard muscle, tracing the intricate lines of the swordsman's dragon tattoo with a careful intimacy that bordered on grossly indecent. The _mark of the dragon_ coiled around Albel's left arm, across his left pectoral and shoulder, and ran along the entire length of his back only to seemingly disappear in a graceful dip. Just like before, the mark glowed and thrummed with a hidden power wherever his fingers touched – it never ceased to fascinate Roger. Vermillion eyes watched him intently in the dark.

"What are you doing, my little fool?"

The finger stilled as dark brown eyes blown wide with desire, met Albel's own.

"I wanna see where it ends," Roger breathed into the quiet of the bedroom and Albel's gaze turned heated. He ran a thumb along plump pink lips that parted easily from his touch.

"Do you really?"

And in Roger's hazy mind, he only had one thought.

 _Yes._

Roger's lips crashed clumsily, hungrily against Albel's, taking the ex-captain by complete surprise. They fell onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and labored breaths; clawing fingers, too many clothes. Roger was on top of him, his body moving sensual patterns over the other as he desperately sought for more contact, his swishing tail rubbing against a certain area below the Glyphian's waist. Albel returned the favor by bucking his hips to meet Roger's own growing need, chuckling darkly when the boy keened against his lips. Still, Roger refused to let up. The kiss was messy and clumsy, but eager in his enthusiasm. There was something highly surreal about the entire situation, or maybe Albel was just finding it difficult to come to terms with the sudden turn of events. He had pinned for this boy for so long that when he was finally presented with the opportunity, years of experience in bed didn't mean a thing, and Albel was still figuring out how to breathe.

"C'mon, ya call yerself a real man?" teased Roger between playful nips and kisses. "Show me what'cha got."

Oh, Albel was _not_ about to be shown up by a cheeky 12-year-old _child._

He sat up and took control of the kiss, cupping the back of Roger's head as he forced his tongue into the boy's willing mouth. Albel massaged his shy, innocent tongue with his own, curling and sucking on the sweet thing languidly. The swordsman's thirst was insatiable. Roger's helmet slid off his head and clattered to the ground as he leaned back, his hands scrambling behind him to hold his weight, his chin tilted up to take in as much as Albel's desire as he could. Despite the strain from his new position, Roger discovered he enjoyed being used like this, to fulfill the older man's needs – and to his utter embarrassment, he realised the obscene moan that broke the air and filled his ears, was his own.

They broke apart long enough for Albel to flip their positions and shove him back onto the bed. Hands roamed and mouths tasted. Euphoria clouded Roger's mind to the point he didn't even protest, much less realise when Albel had unhooked his overalls, until the straps pooled at his hips. His shirt followed next and Roger really did shudder this time – from the cold or excitement, he wasn't sure – as he felt more than saw Albel push the fabric up to his chest, exposing a pair of pretty pink nipples. They peeked at him enticingly; Albel gazed at them in lust, completely mesmerized when they hardened under his smoldering stare, twitching in need. Roger squirmed and writhed beneath him.

"Mmm… ah… Albel, q-quit teasin' me already!"

Well, since the brat asked so nicely…

Unable to resist, he reached out and ran a finger over each rosy bud, relishing in their softness and Roger's breathy moans. He teased the sensitive flesh, circled around and pinched them with his fingers, before lowering his head to give each nipple a flick with his tongue. It earned him another of Roger's delicious sounds. Then, he took the entire thing in his mouth and sucked hard, alternating between the two and lavishing equal amounts of attention on each precious pink bud. Roger keened and panted in want, tossing his head side to side from the stimulation. Both his nipples were swollen and aching pleasantly in seconds.

Albel wasn't the drunk one, but he felt increasingly lightheaded as he fondled and kissed his way down the boy's smooth chest. He brushed against Roger's need, groped and teased it playfully, and the child gasped from the pleasurable stimulation, but Albel was cruel and decided to drag out their foreplay a little longer. His hand moved to squeeze the boy's firm ass and Roger nearly screamed from frustration, his neglected arousal a throbbing need trapped beneath rough fabric. Albel groaned from the sight. It was intoxicating. He had wanted Roger for so long and by Apris, he'd have him!

When Roger started to rut shamelessly against his thigh, Albel paused to remove his own tunic, giving the intoxicated humanoid boy under him an excellent view of his chiseled chest and well-defined abs, tight and perfectly sculpted from years of grueling military training and combat. Roger's breath caught in his throat as he watched the swordsman's beautiful body descend over him once more to claim his lips in another passionate kiss. Albel found it impossible to stop. The boy tasted _divine._ Sweeter and more addictive than any sake he had ever drunk. The more Roger curled around him, the harder and faster Albel felt himself fall and before he knew it, his kisses turned gentle, each caress lingering longer than the last. All he could feel was Roger and Albel longed for this to last. Roger felt his eyes slide shut, submitting fully to the man above him and sighing into the kiss. Their bodies danced and moved in sync between the sheets. Fingers tangled into his hair. It felt like paradise.

 _Roger…_

His eyes fluttered open. The masculine body above him appeared slighter, sun-kissed. Long dark hair receded into short blue. The ends tickled the skin of his cheeks and the warm smile that greeted him, so full of love and adoration, was not Albel's but the one whom his heart yearned for.

 _Fayt?_

Emerald eyes sparkled from the light of dim candles. The kiss on his forehead felt soft and reminded him of sunshine, of a much simpler and happier time from days long past. The man from the stars mouthed three simple words, but they were words Roger would have killed to hear him say again right now. The swordsman he loved laughed as he cried.

 _Fayt…_

Albel's fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his underwear and tugged down. Roger stiffened and the fog cleared.

 _No… stop…_

"Stop!"

Roger shoved Albel off him, or rather he tried to, but the guy was indomitable in comparison, so he settled for pathetically beating the man's chest instead. "Puh… please s-stop… _stop!_ I don't want this! I don't… I–" He crumpled against the pillows and buried his face into his hands, sobbing. Albel sat up and immediately placed a respectable distance between them, his concern made evident by the deep frown on his face.

"What is it?"

 _What's wrong?_

It was the first time Roger saw the Glyphian swordsman look so affected, so worried about him, and it made him feel all the more worse on what he was about to say.

"I'm a terrible person," he choked on his tears, shielding his eyes from the world with the back of his hand. "Ya c-care about me… so much… but all I see is _him_ and I can't–" Roger pulled at his hair and screamed. The tears fell faster. "I love him, Albel! It's always only been him. But I'm not… I'm not bein' fair to ya…"

Albel's eyes slid shut in defeat. His soul was in turmoil; bitterness, resentment and jealousy painted his heart a dark black. After everything said and done, the Menodix still chose that bastard Leingod over him. He was sick of being the runner-up, rejected, but he forced those feelings aside before they could take hold of him and run through their bond. Roger didn't need the added emotional burden now.

"No, little fool. You're drunk."

And before Roger could even begin to protest, Albel grabbed the blanket and pulled it up to his chin to conserve his modesty. The kind gesture touched something deep inside his heart. It was too much for the humanoid boy and a fresh wave of tears sprang to his eyes. After all the hurt, even at a time like this, Albel still found a way to defend his honor at the cost of his own. _He really is a knight,_ Roger thought sadly. _And I don't deserve him._

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into the blanket, guilty and ashamed. The pleasant effects of the sake were beginning to dissipate. "I've hurt ya and I don't know how ta make things better..."

Albel sighed. "I'll live. But if you think this will keep me away, then you're sorely mistaken. Leingod is still an imbecile with a hero complex, and I've sworn to protect you with my life."

Roger felt inclined to point out that made _two_ of them with the hero complex, but refrained from it and smiled against the warm blanket instead. He didn't care what others said about Albel – he was the strongest and kindest person he knew and for some crazy reason, the man _loved_ him. It was at this point when Roger wondered how things would be like if he hadn't fallen for Fayt first.

"Hey… Albel?"

"Mnn."

The heat from Albel's body next to him and his scent felt so comforting; and before he knew it, his eyes began to drift shut, fingers curling in the blanket.

"Can I stay here with you tonight? Please?"

A pause, then a shift of the mattress, before he got his answer in the form of one Albel Nox blowing out the candles and pulling the covers over their naked bodies. Albel curled his body protectively around Roger, while the later snuggled against his chest with a grateful sigh.

"Thanks," he murmured. A hand stroked his cheek.

"Sleep now, little fool. I'll have a guard inform Zelpher on your whereabouts."

And Albel did just that, the guard leaving as quickly as he came, an obvious question hanging in the air about a certain Menodix naked in his bed, which he refused to address. Outside, the currents picked up and a gust of wind blew past, causing the branches of a nearby tree to tap against the window like fingers, like someone trying to keep him awake even as twilight faded into dusk. And Albel thought then of the strange situation that circled his, Roger's and Leingod's relationship, the paths converging in hurried, overlapping lines that culminated at one point, at where they now stood, within reach but far apart. His hold around Roger tightened, afraid to lose; a calming beacon in a raging storm, a sweet innocence that only he possessed, convincing Albel it always was and could only be him. But thoughts of Crosell and his fate plagued him, of the coming morning that could very well be his last, and it wasn't until Roger's breathing evened out into a deep slumber, when Albel finally closed his eyes. Those thoughts stayed with him still.

 _To be continued..._

* * *

 **Author's note:**

I consider this a 'progressive filler', if anything. Not a lot has happened in terms of plot, but character relationships have definitely escalated and I'm rather proud of how they turned out.

We finally get a glimpse into Maria's past and her feelings involving Fayt. And hey - here's that bedroom action I promised! Nothing too explicit, at least not yet at this point of the story. I guess you could call it a slow burn (I should update my tags with this)? Anyway, Albel finally has his moment with our little Menodix, even though the circumstances weren't a hundred percent favorable. Still, I wouldn't have ended this chapter any other way, and I'm happy with it.

If you enjoy my story, please leave a review! I love talking (a little too much) and reading what you think :)

Until next time!


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